


From Ashes Anew

by AboveReality



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Other, Psychological Drama, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7814131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AboveReality/pseuds/AboveReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And the sun shall break through the darkness, the new dawn arriving with the rebirth of the day. Rejoice all ye who has dwelleth in the shadow, who are broken and beaten,” Edér chanted, his eyes glancing up to the star scattered sky. He paused and then smiled as if he remembered something joyful and he looked off in the distant nothingness, engulfed by his own thoughts. It caused Maryden to smile back in response because it was so genuine. </p>
<p>On the search of a better life, Maryden is hurled into chaos involving souls and her sanity. She was reduced to ashes, but will she burn once more? Rating high due to violence and adult situations in the future. Eventually Edér/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First time doing a PoE fanfiction. I have already made a beginning on FF.net, but decided to upload here too ;) 
> 
> English is not my mother-language and I don't have a beta nor sometimes the need to constantly re-read it. I will try and filter out the most grammar mistakes but they can occur.
> 
> All beginnings are difficult, bear with me a bit for the future chapters are better on track.

_Figures with long dark robes stood in front of a pillar-like contraption, which was infused with Adra, twisted and intertwined. It was humming, not audible but she could feel it like a buzz in her bones and the back of her skull as she approached the small crowd.  The dark fabric of the robes of her own brushing against her legs._  
  
_In front of them, just at the base of the pillar, a man stood she knew well. He wore similar ceremonial robes, but with much more ordain, separating him from the flock as someone with much more power and influence. He also wore a horned headdress symbolizing their goddess; Woedica. A sense of reverence swelled in her heart at the sight of him as he spoke to them with a deep booming voice that once stilled and reassured her nervously beating heart, but it was overshadowed with the numerous of mount of troubling questions that were still unanswered. One question stood out above all else._  
  
_She pressed between the small crowd, her pace hurried whilst she tried not to make it apparent. When she was almost near him, her eyes instinctively found his as he finished a sentence. The question must have been laid bare on her face, because suddenly his jaw tensed and his once so warm eyes were set hard and cold._  


* * *

  
With a gasp Maryden awoke, cold sweat dripping down her forehead in small beads. With the back of her skull pounding painfully, she carefully sat up. Experience made her check herself out immediately, but her relief that she wasn’t hurt except for the head was short-lived.  
  
On her left were the forms of Calisca and Heodan. Both dead with bodies formed in twisted angles. With knees feeling like jelly Maryden managed to crawl on her feet, her throbbing head challenging her balance. Her breathing hard. With a few almost-stumbles and deep takes of breaths she steadied herself and the weakness slowly subsided.  
  
She stroked away the matted and wet strings of hair clutching to her face behind her eyes and looked on ahead. In front of her stood the same pillar she had in her dream. The memory of a concussive wave, propelling her and her friends flashed before her eyes. Maryden breathed deeply through her nose and stumbled to a soft patch grass and dirt amidst all the stone.  
  
There was no way she could drag both of them with her and leaving them there for beasts to feast upon conjured a sick taste on her tongue. The least she could do was to bury them properly with honor, so Maryden did after relieving them of useful potions and coin, muttering apologies not only to them but also to herself and whatever God was listening in.  
 

* * *

  
_“I heard that the Gilded Vale has been taking in refugees,” Ralof said. He poked with a wooden spoon into his bowl of stew. The light of the campfire flickering in his dark eyes like burning coals._  
  
_“I heard that the lord- a fellow named Raedric- only does this so that he can extort us from our money,” one of the men sitting around the same fire retorted._  
  
_“Horse crap, why would he do that?”_  
  
_Maryden glanced at the two from a distance, taking notice as they ensued a discussion as she huddled in her blanket and scooted a little closer to her own campfire when a feverish shiver wracked over her. Wordlessly she turned her attention back to her stew, which was some kind of concoction of boar, berries and other things that she was unable to identify. At least she was able to keep it down, despite her sickness._  
  
_“Have you ever been to Gilded Vale?” She finally asked her friend, and took a small bite._  
  
_Calisca, who have been sitting opposite of her, looked up from her own bowl and apparent silent contemplation. Maryden noticed her eyes looked past her to the bickering men, and then readjusted on her again._  
  
_“Never, but I have a sister living there. Her name is Aufra,” she said, her tone of someone reserved._  
  
_Maryden nodded, having enough knowledge of body language not to pry, and returned to her stew._  


* * *

  
Maryden allowed her feet to continue forward, following the road to god knows where. She was unfamiliar in Dyrwood and hopefully followed the cobblestone road took her to civilization, which she welcomed now more than she ever had because her sickness was getting worse.  
  
She did not feel as feverish as before, but faint whispers had seeped into her head just after she had buried her friends and decided to continue onward. They were soft, just at the edge of her hearing and constant, not subsiding. Not only that, but even in bright moonlight she sometimes thought to see things in her peripheral vision. Only to discover that there was nothing there whenever she looked, resulting in her gaze often darting this way and that like a nervous tic. Afraid that if she believed that it were just tricks of the eyes and did not react, the next time it would be a real threat and she would be too late to respond.  
  
When the clouds drifted in front of the moon and did not seem to disperse, Maryden decided to set up camp, as far as she could. She built a small fire that hopefully did not attract too much unwanted attention, but kept her from being chill.  
  
She rested her back against a tree, relishing in the faint illusion of safety that her back wasn’t out in the open. Her greatsword rested against her thigh on the ground, ready to be picked up and swung in a heartbeat. Exhausted, but unable to sleep Maryden pulled up a knee and rested her forehead against it, eyes closed and tried to listen to the whispers. But it was too soft to make any sense of it.  
  
  
In between all of the frustration, exhaustion and dreading feeling of what was going to happen, Maryden still managed to doze off a bit. At the earliest signs of dawn she woke due to drops hitting her one the nose. Feeling even more tired than before she had dozed off, Maryden stood up and readied herself for the road, suffocating the fire with sand and ignoring the hunger that clenched down on her stomach.  
  
The downpour was relentless as she continued walking. The movement in her periphery took on more shape every now and then instead of just tendrils or the thought that something was there. They turned into wisps of people strung up, or tied to a pyre writhing and screaming without sound. Sometimes a lone person, other times a dozen could be seen at once, but every single time when she focused on them they disappeared.  
  
Eventually her cloak was so drenched that it could not protect her against the onslaught of rain anymore. Wet, cold and with her patience (and perhaps even sanity) thinner than ice she finally passed some kind of archway. Guards were posted on either side of the arch, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she passed. Maryden tried not to notice and caught herself doing a double take on everything she passed, even the beggars trying to shield from the rain at the other side of the city wall whilst wailing for alms.  
  
Maryden ventured into the small village. Despite the bad weather is was still bustling about, people passed her on foot and horse. The lit homes and the civilization should have brought her comfort, instead it did not. Everyone seemed distant, even the guards, not willing to converse or meddle with another’s business. How and where was she supposed to get help? Suddenly she halted in her step.  
  
In a small clearing ahead of her stood a tree. It was barren, its branches twisting in weird and almost unnatural angles, but the bodies hanging from them was that made Maryden stop. Some were fresh, but most were new. All dangling and swaying in a barely noticeable wind, the robes around their necks and the branches of the tree creaking and groaning with it. A feeling of caution settled in her gut.  
  
A man approached her, his eyes sunken and lifeless and with a skin as pale and gray as the village around them as well as his guards on either side. “You must be one of the new settlers,” his dry voice croaked. “My name is Urgeat. Welcome to Gilded Vale.”  
  
‘ _So much for feeling warm and welcome here,_ ’ she wryly thought.  
  
“You’ll be pleased to know that we’ve had some recent vacancies,” he said. His eyes glancing to the gnarled monstrosity of a tree near them. Maryden followed his gaze.  
  
“I might start to reconsider your Lord’s offer..” she started but was cut off by the man.  
  
“Nonsense. Gilded Vale is a perfect suitable village for those who respect the lord’s decrees. Besides,” Maryden felt uncomfortable as he took in her exhausted form. “You look like you could use a fresh start, but we need to make some inquiries first. Our inestimable Lord Raedric the 7th has gone to great lengths to insulate our town from Waidwen’s Legacy.” Urgeat cocked his head at her, Maryden nodded and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
“Of course,” she murmured. Not liking where this was going.  
  
“Have you ever birthed a Hollowborn child?”  
  
“No. I don’t even know what that is.”  
  
Urgeat sighed, not even trying to hide his displeasure of her lack of knowledge and that he had to explain the obvious. “An infant born without a soul, of course. Lord Raedric has made it one of his first priorities to eliminate the scourge from our borders. Now, I must press that we have little kindness of dissidents, charlatans or any other sort of criminal who would hide the curse in our midst.” He nodded to the tree in silent threat.  
  
“At the moment I won’t be able to grant you permanent housing, but for the mean while you can find some residence at the inn south west from here,” he gestured in the direction. “If you don’t have any questions-” He turned around and left, leaving Maryden there in the middle of the road.  
  
She had wanted to ask him about the bîawac and her illness with the whispers, but her gut told her not to. This whole village felt wrong and it wasn’t her head nor the whispers messing with it. Her eyes glanced occasionally to the tree as she rounded around it. The resemblance of the bodies hanging on its branches and those in her visions were eerily similar.  
  
“Were you looking for someone up there? I could introduce you?” A voice suddenly said behind her in strained morbid humor, making her startle. Instinctively she placed a hand on the handle of her greatsword when turning around.  
  
A man leaned against a wall of a house, shielded from the rain and smoking his pipe in a seemingly relaxed manner, but she could see his eyes glance from her face to her hand on the hilt of her weapon in a slight suspicious matter. Maryden could not blame him.  
  
His being was mostly concealed with robes and armor, but in the shadow of the house she could see he was a blond and sported a short beard. Not wanting to cause a scene she relaxed her grip on her weapon and was silent for a moment, taking the man in. Her eyes flitted back over her shoulder to the tree momentarily before sighing, her shoulders sagging under her mental weight as her gaze fell to the soggy ground.  
  
“Looking for someone who could help make me feel better.”  
  
The man gazed at her, his eyes unreadable as he nodded understandingly and took another long drag from his pipe. “My condolences.” He exhaled and turned away his attention, watching the drenched village around them.  
  
“Thanks,” she murmured and resumed her pace. This time without looking back to the tree.  
  
As she made her way to the direction of the inn Urgeat had pointed out, the bells of a distant church tolled three times. Around her, people huddled together hushing. As Maryden passed she picked up snippets here and there.  
  
“A Raedric died-”  
  
“-Oh no, poor child.”  
  
“Another Hollowborn?!”  
  
‘ _What is going on here?_ ’  
  
Rounding the corner Maryden noticed a group of four cluttered together right in front of the inn. Their voices were raised, obviously in argument. The one who seemed to receive the brunt of it all was hooded, partially shielding his face, but his tall, thin and straight stature suggested an elf. He had his hands raised, trying to keep the peace, but clearly it wasn’t helping.  
  
“It was surely all a misunderstanding,” the Elf croaked. “I surely didn’t say what you think I was-” Suddenly his demeanor changed and his fists clenched. Something raw flickered in his eyes. “We’ve nye quarrel,” he said with a different accent.  
  
A woman, who was part of the three yelling at him, drew her blade. “That’s where you are wrong.”  
  
The scrape of metal against metal had Maryden moving, she planted herself almost between the two parties, her hand on her sword for the umpteenth time that day. “What are you doing? Fighting in the middle of the street, are you mad?” Her voice was sharp above the rain and her eyes flitted back and forth from the elf to the other three. “Back down.”  
  
“No one gives us orders, foreigner,” the woman barked.  
  
“Sounds like you’re defending him” one of the men said, squinting at you with red rimmed eyes.  
  
Without another word spilled the two men followed the woman’s example and drew their blades and charged. Smoothly Maryden pulled out her sword and in a practiced timed swipe she drew it across the front of the first one reaching her, cleaving open his chest cavity. As he collapsed she used her momentum to turn, stepping away from the elf on the meantime in the hope not to hit him, and decapitated the other.  
  
Behind her, she heard incantations that could only mean that something was being cast and the draw of energy made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The elf was a wizard? She turned and saw that three bright missiles erupted from the elf’s book that was open in his arms, it struck the woman right in the guts. Sending her backwards into the mud at the side of the road and there she laid still, dead like the other two.  
  
Whilst sliding the greatsword back in its hilt on her back, the elf approached her, seeming oblivious to the carnage. Most wizard were squeamish of blood, but not him. Indicating that this wasn’t the first fight he had been in and judging the speed of his incantations and the power of his spells he wasn’t a novice either.  
  
“Thank you for your timely assistance with that.. awkward situation,” he began, gesturing to the three bodies. Faintly Maryden wondered why no guards was rushing towards them to cuff them in shackles, but hey; no complaining here.  
  
He was kind to her, even though she surely must have been ablaze and all.. She could already feel the looks of distrust prickling on the back of her neck. Despite of it all, she allowed herself to relax a bit. Too many heavy emotions would make it more obvious.  
  
“Glad I could help.”  
  
Maryden took him in. He was matching her height and of what she could see underneath the hood he had a kind, but typically sharp and etched for an Elf, face with a smooth skin surely every normal woman was jealous of. His voice was somehow disarming, and soothing her heartbeat.  
  
As the adrenaline drained from her veins, the fatigue hit back double as hard, making her suddenly a bit woozy. She had no idea that she was swaying when he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Normally she would’ve remarked sharply to someone touching her, but now she could not.  
  
“You alright? You look pale,” the Elf said, worry etching in his voice.  
  
Maryden took a few deep breaths and straightened herself when the wooziness slightly dissipated, her stomach growled. “Yeah, just been on the road for far too long.”  
  
The Elf searched her eyes for a moment, a small smile suddenly tucking up the corners of his mouth. “I’ll buy you a meal, it’s the least I can do to repay you as I am sure you will agree. Name’s Aloth Corfiser, if we should exchange pleasantries.”  
  
“Maryden, pleasure,” she murmured back. The thought of a warm meal making her stomach growl even more.  
  
As she followed her new acquaintance through the front door of the inn, she really tried to ignore the silently screaming woman in the corner of her eyes. Burning alive by see-through flames in the pouring rain that drenched Gilded Vale.

 


	2. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess we are slowly getting started ;) I instantly trusted Aloth the moment I met him with my own character. I guess Maryden does too!
> 
> English is not my mother-language so errors can occur.

  
_“I heard you hail from the Living Lands, that’s not a bad place to live..”_  
  
_Maryden looked up to Calisca from her crouching position, after a short moment of silent contemplation she turned her attention back to the wolf tracks in front of her imprinted in the dirt. She was no ranger but she knew the last pack they’d slew wasn’t the only one in the region._  
  
_“Are you seriously asking where I come from? Like, right now?” Maryden said and stood up, her eyes setting back on Calisca, the light of the lanterns casting eerie shadows on both of their faces. Calisca diverted her gaze to ground for a moment, before meeting hers again._  
  
_“Why not?” She countered sharply. “You’ve been travelling with us for almost a month, but we almost know nothing about you.”_  
  
_“We also don’t know nothing of Salvor.”_  
  
_“He’s an Aumaua, you know how they are.”_  
  
_Maryden sighed, rolling her eyes and sat down on a nearby rock, setting down the lantern and wiped the sweat from her brow. The fever was less bad than before. The sooner they found the berries the better, but there is no harm to rest a bit is there?_  
  
_“The Living Lands might have been my birthplace, but it wasn’t home. Not for me,” she said with a soft voice. There must have been something on her face that made Calisca pause for a moment._  
  
_“Is it because you are a Godlike?”_  
  
_Maryden stared at the woman, nodding slowly. “I see that you noticed. I thought that I successfully.. never mind.”_  
  
_Against her expectations Calisca also sat down on a nearby rock, a small reassuring smile playing on the woman’s lips. “It’s hard not to notice when you cut down those wolves, ablaze and all.” She continued despite Maryden looking away with guilt._  
  
_“Is that why you’re going to Dyrwood? To find a home?”_  
  
_Maryden shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe. Perhaps I’ve been trying too long too hard to belong somewhere, so one day I decided to walk where my feet take me and my heart goes to.”_  
  
_Calisca had been silently watching her speak. Suddenly the woman reached out and placed a gauntleted hand on her armored shoulder, grasping it firmly._  
  
_“You will find it.” It was not a promise coming from her lips, it was a fact._  
  
_Maryden nodded, and as she spoke her voice sounded oddly hoarse in her ears. “Yeah.”_

* * *

  
“I heard that most Fire Godlike had skin like burning coal, hair of fire and the like?”  
  
Maryden could not help but laugh, a bit harsh though.  
  
“Not every Godlike is the same. Some merely have a mark, others are very apparent. With me..-” she paused for a moment, to think about the words she was about to say.  
  
“When I experience a heavy emotion it shows more. And I am told the ends of my hair looks like flickering fire in direct sunlight,” Maryden said. It was somehow relieving to find someone open-minded concerning her.. condition? “If I balance myself out, I could pass for an ordinary human.”  
  
Aloth took a sip of his drink, what seemed to be some type of wine judging by the smell. “They say that the people of Dyrwood think of Fire Godlikes to be touched by Magran,” he said, as if trying to get to a certain topic.  
  
They were both seated at a table in the corner of the inn. Though it the atmosphere was homier than the rest of Gilded Vale, it somehow seemed off again. On purpose, Maryden had taken the seat so that she was with her back to the rest of it, hoping to avoid the concerning visions.  
  
His grey eyes took her in. Maryden wiped her mouth with a piece of cloth that served as a napkin. Despite that she was famished she had still tried to eat with some dignity. Perhaps it was the aristocracy and sophisticated air Aloth had around him, but she somehow wanted to prove that she was not _barbaric_ like he preferred to call the people from the region.  
  
“Are you asking me if I believe?” She looked up from her empty plate and took a gulp from her tankard. The beer wasn’t the best, but definitely not the worst that she had on her travels. Any type would suffice right now.  
  
“I’m curious about your own standpoints, as a fellow foreigner.”  
  
Aloth watched Maryden look down at the beer in her hands with silent contemplation. He was started to wonder if she was ever going to answer when she talked.  
  
“I want to believe in _something_ , but what that something is I have yet to find out,” she explained softly. She sighed and ran a hand through her fringe combing it a bit with her fingers as if it was askew or not to her liking, or as if she was not sure what to do or say. “I don’t know. What about you?”  
  
Aloth smiled at her. “I believe in facts and what I see.”  
  
“Is that taught where you are from, Aloth?”  
  
“It is to me.”  
  
The Elf chuckled and took another delicate sip from his wine, Maryden leant back in her seat as he eagerly told her about his training as a wizard and that he was a forced adventurer. He explained that he was from Cythwood, from Aedyr and that his parents served nobility.  
  
Behind her she could hear the small talk of several patrons. It wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people to fill the room and keep the innkeepers busy. She glanced back for a moment, her curiosity about her fellow patrons suddenly present. Her eyes tracked the waitress, swerving between tables with skill and years of practice, her dark hair pulled up in a tight bun to stay out of her face. Aloth’s voice seemed to get softer, mingling with the whispers at the edge of her hearing.  
  
The woman stroked away a stray strand behind her ear and sighed as she took another patron’s order, nodding her head leisurely in understanding. Her sunken eyes were dull, dark rings of fatigue surrounding them. The whispers seemed to grew louder, or where the sounds from outside getting mute?  
  
It was like a soft tugging at the back of her skull at first, but when Maryden noticed it a strange sensation already pulled her in. Maryden could no longer think, because she was no longer sitting there. Maryden was swiveling between tables, a two full trays balancing on one arm as she placed down drinks with the other as she passed the patrons. Sweat dripped down along the back of her neck into her collar, she could already feel the bun on the back of her head sag but she had no time to readjust it.  
  
When her trays were finally empty she heard a crash. Sighing with frustration causing her jaw to clench she placed down the trays a little harder on the counter and grabbed a towel briskly. She kneeled down on the floor, between the tables and grabbed the wooden tankard, placing it on the table before mopping off the spilled beer.  
  
“Look at this laddie, that’s how a real woman should behave. On her knees!” The man at the table of where the tankard belonged to bellowed. Men around them shouted in agreement.  
  
Maryden looked up past her dark bangs at the man. It was a vile one, smelling of beer and piss. He grinned down at her, showing that he missed some of his teeth but those that remained had browned over the years of bad hygiene. She could feel her blood boil as he winked at her and licked his lips in a suggestive matter.  
  
Trying to cool down her temper Maryden stood up with the goal to wring out the towel and grab a clean one to mop up the rest when the man grabbed her by the wrist. Maryden glared at him, straight into his eyes and noticed her reflection. In a reflex she pulled back her hand and slapped-  
  
A hand landing on her shoulder made her start and gasp. Too fast and none too gentle, all the sound around her appeared at once. The hand on her shoulder shook her, hard and urgently. She blinked a view times and reached up to her temple, her head felt like it was splitting in two.  
  
“Maryden!”  
  
The sharp shout of a familiar voice made her look to the side. Aloth was leaning in, his grip still firm on her shoulder as his grey eyes searched hers. A frown etched deeply into his once so smooth face.  
  
“Are you feeling alright? You look very pale..” he began but cut himself off when Maryden stood up, tearing herself away from his grasp. There was a panicked look in her eyes when she glanced around, taking in all the patrons and the waitress looking at her. There was a wariness in their gazes.  
  
“I’m just very tired from my travels. Goodnight,” Maryden hastily said to Aloth, almost stumbling over her words and without wasting another second she had turned on her heels and walked up the staircase, taking two at a time.  
  
When she was at her room, she instantly locked the door and sat down the bed, hugging herself as her mind erupted into chaos with the headache pounding away on the inside of her skull.  
  
‘ _What’s going on with me?_ ’ she feverishly thought. ‘ _Did I just witness a vision? But I was her.. My view was not from a distance._ ’ But no explanation came to her.  
  
Cold sweat pearled on her forehead as claustrophobia suddenly overwhelmed her. Maryden flung up and opened her windows, not caring that it was still raining. Inhaling the fresh air deeply with closed eyes, she felt her heart began to settle and the headache subside when the rain hit her face. But the whispers were still present, just at the edge of her hearing.  
  
It worried her even more now than before.  
  
A curt knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts. Would she open the door? Did she want to face the person on the other side? If it was urgent surely they would knock again or try to come inside, yet nothing happened.  
  
Maryden closed the window, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve and walked to the door, still hesitating. After standing there for a few seconds she reached out, her hand encasing the cool copper of the doorknob. Not before taking a deep breath she opened it, ready to face the angry owner of the inn that would surely tell her off about her antic down at the common room.  
  
Instead there was no one there.  
  
She frowned and was for a moment worried that aside of whispers she started to hear things, just when her ears picked up the sound of footsteps moving away from her. She leaned outside and looked, her eyes taking in the back of Aloth’s head. His smooth black hair swaying with him in his stride as he distanced himself from her door.  
  
‘ _Shall I call out to him?_ ’ Before the thought ended Maryden heard herself shout his name.  
  
Aloth stopped in his stride and turned around, eyes fixating on her before walking back to her door, meanwhile occasionally glancing back over his shoulder to keep track of his surroundings. With a gesture she invited him in and closed her door.  
  
It was a simple room, little to no decorations not even paintings, but it held a bed, a table and a chair. Everything was in brown or greyish tones like the rest of Gilded Vale. It wasn’t luxury but just enough to suffice the needs of a lone traveler.  
  
“Maryden?” He asked, his voice down but not quite a whisper. There was still a frown on his face and with a serious look in his grey eyes he seemed to take her in. She ventured towards the corner of the room and leaned against the table refraining to sit on it, her arms wrapped around herself. Aloth lingered a bit, his posture uncomfortable.  
  
She opened and closed her mouth, not sure where to start. Would she risk telling a practically complete stranger that she was probably going nuts? She just knew him for a few hours, but he already seemed so.. trustworthy. At that moment she decided to take a leap of faith and began at the beginning.  
  
“I was part of a caravan. We discovered Engwithan Ruins and decided to camp there, I ran a high fever at the time and could use the rest before the final push to here, Gilded Vale,” Maryden said. She explained Aloth about the berries, the Glanfathan tribe that slaughtered the caravan and the bîawac.  
  
“I’m afraid that I must’ve gotten some sickness on top of the fever, because after the bîawac I’m-” she paused for a moment to find the words. “I think I hear whispers. Not just at moments but all the time, even now. Sometimes I see things, visions.”  
  
“What do the whispers say?” Aloth asked, his tone objective but his eyes were not; they seemed sympathetic. He had been silent during her entire story of how she ended up here in Gilded Vale. Maryden had expected him to call her crazy and walk out, but he did not. He had just sat there with no judgement, listening to her without interrupting until now. She shrugged her shoulders at his question.  
  
“I do not know. It’s all gibberish like a thousand voices are talking at the same time. I can’t make out a single one of them.” She then groaned and pressed the palm of her hand on her head, feeling another strong headache work its way up.  
  
“This has been a very eventful day for you,” Aloth decided and shifted his weight, a faint wrinkle on his forehead. “Thank you for confiding in me and if it assures you; I am sure we will find a cure for your illness. It’s not something I have ever heard of, but if we find a capable animancer and you explain your situation there must surely be some explanation to this all.”  
  
Maryden felt the corners of her lips tuck up in a faint smile. “We?” She followed Aloth to the door. The Elf stammered and his fluster was obvious, despite the weak candlelight that illuminated the room.  
  
“Well, yes. I’m a wizard, you’re a good fighter. We are both adventurers in a foreign land and I believe in travelling in numbers. Won’t you agree?”  
  
Maryden crossed her arms across her chest and regarded him in a bit of an amused matter, feeling lighter than before now that she was able to share at least _some_ of her thoughts. She briefly thought about her short period of travelling alone to this place. It had been uncertain and simply terrifying as there was no one to measure her sanity with, who knew how it would progress in the future. The decision was quickly made.  
  
“I agree.”

* * *

  
“Are you sure about this?” Aloth pressed for the hundredth time. “The locals are not exactly ‘friendly’ towards anyone out of the ordinary. If they notice something off-”  
  
“My dream is the only lead I have,” Maryden said, cutting off the Elf. With each stride her gut wrenched tighter into a nauseating ball of anxiety with her heart hammering against her ribcage. Aloth had followed her, buzzing around her trying to talk some ‘sense’ in to her.  
  
Was she scared? Perhaps. Did she have to do it? Definitely, but doubt was bubbling up to the surface of her mind. What would she gain? Her thoughts of doubt were silenced when they stopped in front the deformed gallows tree of Gilded Vale.  
  
The air was frisky this early morning, mist absorbed the village giving it a haunting image that did not help. Her eyes searched those of the dead, looking for a familiar face.  
  
Maryden had feverishly dreamt that night of an animancer, a dwarf woman that used to serve Raedric until a few weeks ago, her face already shriveled skin pulled taught over the bones. It had felt real, so real that she still recalled the rancid stench emanating from the dwarf’s mouth and how empty and hollow her eyeless eye sockets seemed to stare at her. It was burned into her nerves.  
  
‘ _Watcher._ ’  
  
She heard her own breath stagnate when she found the face she had been looking for. Slowly, careful not to trip over the trees gnarly roots she made her way to the woman, her surroundings completely forgotten, who was hung on a low branch though still high enough that Maryden could not reach her. The woman’s face hung a little to side just like her dream.  
  
There was a strange glow about the dwarf, one that did not seem to emanate to the surroundings but there was tepid warmth to it. Maryden had the urge to touch it, but could not do it with her hands for the woman was out of reach and the glow seemed to come from within.  
  
Suddenly that strange sensation tugged again in the back of her head, it pulled her in and swept her mind away with the current before she could even struggle to prevent this. Maryden did not know what to expect, but certainly not that she remained standing on her spot after the occurrence with the waitress. Had that been different? Maryden looked around but there was no one there, not even other corpses hanging in the tree and everything was covered in thick impenetrable layer of fog. It was just her and the corpse.  
  
Something creaked and on instinct she looked up. Instead of a motionless half-withered body the dead woman now pointedly gazed at her as far as that was possible with her having no eyes. She seemed to smile, a few teeth appeared to be missing.  
  
“Have you come here for me, my dear? Or have you gotten lost?” The smile of the dwarf woman grew with a sudden realization. “Both, I think.”  
  
Maryden’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to convey words, her thought process staggering in confusion. “What is this? Am I imagining this?”  
  
The woman chuckled. “No you are not. This is very real for you and I.”  
  
“How can you speak to me? Who are you?” Maryden asked and gestured to the woman. “You’re not exactly in fit condition to talk.” The dwarf chuckled.  
  
“Is _that_ what we are doing? Perhaps that is your mind trying to make sense of it.”  
  
The dwarf looked down at her own body and clicked her tongue. “But right you are were it not for you. As of who I am; my name is Caldara de Berranzi. I _used_ to be an animancer of Lord Raedric, until he grew tired of me.”  
  
“My mind tries to make sense of it..?” Maryden repeated to herself on a whispering tone and took a small step closer, her eyes squinted shaking off the other questions bubbling up to the surface except one. This woman Caldara was an animancer before she died. Perhaps she could give her some answers. “I need to understand something that has happened to me,” she began, noticing that her voice had a slight tremor in it.  
  
Caldara glanced back at her, tilting her head. The robe around her neck groaned in protest with the movement. A wind that Maryden did not feel on her skin moved the body slight from side to side, but Caldara’s empty gaze did not falter. She appeared to be waiting.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she told Caldara about the bîawac, the whispers and the visions, not only that of the waitress but also in portions those she had seen with a waking mind. To a strangers ear it must have sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, but Caldara merely gave her a look of pity.  
  
“You have seen past the Shroud, dear. Your soul remembers how it sees when it leaves the body, like being reminded of a dream you have forgotten,” the dwarf nodded.  
  
“You are a Watcher, now. And a Watcher you will stay.”  
  
‘ _There is that word again._ ’  
  
“What is a Watcher?”  
  
“What it is indeed,” Caldara chuckled. “It was not I who studied this, but I will tell you what I know. Souls pass on. They leave the world for a time and then are reborn into it. Sometimes more as before, most of the time less and seldom the same.”  
  
“For all souls, there is a time where they do not live. They did not leave and aren’t reborn yet, so they wander like you and I. Lost and forgotten,” Caldara’s stare seemed to intensify. “A Watcher sees them and knows instinctively what to look for. Sometimes they know a person just by looking at them. Know where they’ve been in ages past and when their bodies were other bodies. See memories even the owner can’t recall.”  
  
‘ _That explained the waitress,_ ’ Maryden thought.  
  
“For more answers, you should see old Maerwald. He is a Watcher just like _you_. Took an old keep not far from here called Caed Nua, beyond the Black Meadow.”  
  
“My friends were killed by the bîawac, why weren’t I?” Maryden whispered, but Calderra heard it none the less.  
  
“A soul can be heavy if it stayed in one piece through it’s time. Strong souls, we animancers call them.” Suddenly a sad look crossed the woman’s withered face. “Called, I mean.”  
  
Maryden contemplated the woman’s words. It explained some of her ‘sickness’, at least the way she was able to reach to the waitress and Calderra, but it did not explain the visions she saw at day nor the whispers. But she had a feeling that the animancer would not know any of this. Her best shot was with Maerwald.  
  
“Thank you, Calderra,” Maryden began, pulling the woman out of her mulling thoughts. Calderra smiled again. “Goodbye, my dear. It was lovely visiting.” Then her head slumped forward and a bit to the side like before.  
  
Around Maryden the intense fog seemed to seep away for a bit and she could see the silhouettes of the houses bleeding into vision and people passing by. The corpses above her swung in the wind that was cold and icy on her cheeks. Slowly she stepped over the roots of the tree and stopped next to Aloth who had been waiting on her for god knew how long. Aloth gazed at her with a worried look.  
  
“Are you alright? You seemed lost just now.”  
  
Maryden ran a hand across her forehead, noticing that it was wet with sweat but cold to the touch of her own fingertips. And tried to wrap her pounding head around what had just occurred. “What happened?”  
  
Aloth frowned. “Well, you walked to that corpse of a dwarf zoned out for a minute staring at it, turned around and here you are as pale as if you’ve seen a ghost. Did it help, coming here?”  
  
“I.. yes, no-” she stammered, her voice off in her own ears. Maryden tried to think but the headache intensified sharply and black blotches appeared in her vision. She remembered herself to take a deep breath, but her knees buckled in the process.  
  
“Hey-!” A voice in the distance shouted, but was not Aloth’s. Before Maryden could respond, she was already hurled into darkness.


	3. Teylecg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Maryden really notices her increasing abilities.. and is terrified of it.
> 
> English is not my mother-language. So forgive me if there are some grammatical errors.

_The Glanfathan tribesman glared at her. His dark face paint was crumbling a bit, beneath it Maryden saw his skin glisten with sweat in the light of the burning caravans. She had her greatsword drawn and was panting. Calisca and she had been running as fast as they could when the horn of Odema had echoed._  
  
_Whenever his horn blew, the caravan was in serious danger. In this case the danger was revealed as several Glanfathan tribesmen, who thought that they had violated their sacred ruins and sought respite. Elimination. Around them there were bodies of Glanfathan warriors and caravan members alike. Odema was propped in a bloody mess against one of the caravans that had not been set afire. Still alive but barely._  
  
_Heodan took a strained gurgling breath. He was subdued and overpowered by one of the tribesman who had him in a headlock._  
  
_“Lay down your weapons or he dies,” the tribesman growled, his voice thick with accent._  
  
_Maryden glanced around, her heart hammering in her ears and her muscles were tired. There were four warriors, all in the same get-up like the ones that had ambushed her and Calisca just moments before. If she managed to get Heodan free from the headlock there were three of them against four. A more even number._  
  
_“LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!” The tribesman yelled, fury and impatience gleaming in his dark eyes._  
  
_“I’ll have to think about that,” Maryden calmly answered back, her voice holding a slight tremor of the adrenaline coursing through her veins._  
  
_“I wonder if you still have to think when your friend is bleeding to death on the ground,” one of the other warriors hissed between clenched teeth and nodded to the one holding Heodan._  
  
_When the tribesman pushed Heodan away from him and started to lash out with his sword, Maryden flung into action. With a few big steps she reached Heodan and pushed him out of the reach of the tribesman sword. She used her greatsword to block it and with a surge of power she pushed, causing the man’s grip to falter on the weapon and leaving her an opening to slice open his abdomen._  
  
_The man fell onto his side, heaving and bleeding profusely when his guts spilled on the ground as he died. Maryden breathed heavily through her nose, enflamed and with gritted teeth._  
  
_“Kill them!” The other yelled._  


* * *

  
Maryden woke up in a haze, like her head was stuffed. Whispers surrounding her as usual now. She blinked several times, to get the ceiling to focus, it helped just a bit to distinguish the outlines of the support beams holding the roof together.  
  
Her breathing was audible in her ears as she slowly dragged her upper body to a seated position and threw her legs over the edge of the bed she was in. After letting out a shivering breath she noticed that she was only wearing her cloth; a simple linen shirt and pants.  
  
Maryden glanced around, her eyes settling on her brigandine armour and boots near the fire place. The former draped over the back of a chair. After taking in her environment Maryden deduced that it seemed she was inside simple cottage for just one person who was quite self-sufficient. Someone who did not desire much nor was materialistic.  
  
As she sat there on the edge of her bed, her vision somehow sharpened slowly until there was just a bare trace of blurriness. The hazed feeling in her head seemed to lessen. Absentmindedly her fingers threaded through the hair close to her scalp, weaving through the knots as she tried to _listen_.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted with the opening and closing of the front door, startling her so fiercely that she flung up on her feet and grabbed for her missing greatsword. A man stood in the middle of the small room, a few big strides away from her and the bed, suddenly crowding the cottage with his presence.  
  
It looked like he didn’t even notice her, placing down the large leather bag he had on his shoulders down on the small table in front of him. He folded it open, pulling out cheese, bread and smoked meat, judging by the smell of it. In response, even though she didn’t want to, Maryden’s stomach growled.  
  
The man laughed. His posture was oddly relaxed, as though he did not perceive her as a threat which Maryden was not sure she should take as a compliment. But, she noticed that the pommel of his sword on his belt was free to grab if she should make a move. Judging by the way he carried himself and the fact that he was armoured.. let’s say Maryden knew when she was at a disadvantage.  
  
“I figured you were hungry by the moment you’d wake up.”  
  
He looked at her, not at her face, but directly into her eyes. It made Maryden’s insides churn with discomfort but she did not break the contact. He suddenly seemed familiar.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
Her intonation was sharp, but he did not seem to be hurt by it. The man chuckled instead and gestured to the chair opposite of him as he pulled out his.  
  
“Why don’t we discuss that as we eat, hmm?”  
  
She stared at him warily, not ready yet to move from her spot. He chuckled, shaking his head and sat down in his seat and dug in. He did not remove the sword from his belt, but placed his shield against the nearest leg of the table in arms reach.  
  
If he did not trust her, she would not trust him.  
  
‘ _But my stuff are near him,_ ’ Maryden thought, her eyes flicking to her greatsword that was placed against the fireplace mantel behind the chair that he had gestured to. Slowly, the patter of her feet on the hard wooden floor muffled by the woolen socks she wore, she made her way to the table. Despite that the man was eating and that he seemed relaxed in her presence, Maryden knew he eyed her.  
  
When she was at her chair, her hands curled around the back as if she was contemplating to pull it back and sit down opposite of him or remain standing and reach for her greatsword. Before she could decide she felt that odd sensation again that had only occurred twice now. The same pulling at the back of her skull.  
  
Images of masses of people flashed before her eyes. All of them armed, most were men, some women. They all marched, here and there was a banner with a simple crest, held up high with pride. But she somehow knew that it would all turn downhill. A mixture of dread and betrayal welled up inside of her. This wasn’t the forgiving God she knew, this was-  
   
“I suggest you sit down, you look kind of pale.”  
  
Maryden looked at the man opposite of her, noticing that she had been staring in the beyond. The nobs on the brigandine duck in the palms of her hands due to her vice grip on it and the wood of the chair beneath, knuckles white. She relented and pulled back the chair sitting down and letting go of her initial feelings of distrust and wariness. Maryden buried her face in her hands, taking it all in.  
  
‘ _I am going insane._ ’  
  
She felt the man staring at her, but frankly Maryden did not care. She was too tired to care. The sound of something dropping on her wooden plat before her made her look; it was a piece of smoke meat and a chunk of cheese. The man nodded at her.  
  
“Eat.”  
  
Silently she did, her stomach thanking her with a single soft growl, and ate the meat and cheese with taste. As she consumed some more bread, meat and cheese questions bubbled up, but were not outspoken. Maryden looked up to investigate the man in front of her.  
  
“Name’s Edér, since you asked.”  
  
“Maryden,” she murmured and straightened up in her chair as she finished her plate. Feeling less weak or ‘odd’ than before.  
  
Edér seemed just a bit older than her, but not by much. His tanned face had wrinkles on the forehead and crow’s-feet, but they were few. The man also sported a short beard, that matched the straw blond hair on his scalp. Right now he had leaned back in a casual way, trying to light a pipe. As the smoke twirled up to the ceiling, vanishing in the air and an earthy but sweet smell entered her nose, it all clicked suddenly.  
  
‘ _He was at the tree earlier.. When I first came to Gilded Vale._ ’  
  
“How long have I been out? Where’s Aloth, the Elf that was with me?”  
  
The man pulled up his shoulders, he had put up his feet on the table now and was balancing on two legs of the chair. Right now his relaxed manner seemed to irritate her. “About a day. It’s getting dark outside, now. Your friend is gathering your stuff from the inn.”  
  
Maryden thought of trusting him, but then a familiar book on the table caught her eyes. In a flash she stood up and was in two strides at the fireplace grabbing her greatsword. On her heels she turned, pointing the weapon at the man. Edér had also jumped up from his seat and pulled his sword. The two tips of metal nearly grazed each other. The gentle look he had on his face before, was now replaced with something more serious, but his stance was calm nonetheless.  
  
Up close, she really noticed how tall he was. Close to 6’2 and there she was at 5’8. But she had fought and won from bigger men.  
  
“That is _his_ spellbook. A wizard would _never_ leave that behind,” she seethed between teeth, her heart hammering in her chest. She noticed the cottage brighten up just a bit with the raw feeling of anger surging in her veins, making her heritage more known to the man in front him. Normally she would be able to control herself, but now.. after each passing day (even hour) she felt her control slipping.  
  
“What did you do with him!? Tell me!”  
  
“As I said, he was gathering your stuff,” Edér explained. “Calm down, you don’t want to start a fight.”  
  
_‘Calm down, this isn’t like you.’_  
  
“I don’t trust you,” Maryden snapped back. Her anger was somehow flaring, her veins throbbing in her ears, but the whispers were still there.  
  
‘ _Calm down Maryden._ ’  
  
She itched to start to a fight. To fight this man in front of him and let herself roar, because she could not fight the thing that was happening to her.. whether it was inside her head or real. She knew it was getting worse and figured that the flashes would increase.. but she did not know.  
  
All of her life she had been fighting to survive. And now when she thought she could breathe and pick the life that _she_ wanted it was once again taken from her.  
  
“Calm down.”  
  
His deep baritone voice seeped its way through her mind. Maryden blinked and noticed that he had gotten closer than she would’ve liked. When she wanted to snarl at him to back off he put up his free hand and placed away his sword. Edér was now unarmed.  
  
“Trust me,” he said, voice soft.  
  
It caused Maryden’s anger to seep away, but she did not want that to happen. She wanted it, _needed_ it. The front door opening and closing startled her, making her flinch and her eyes caught the familiar mop of silky long black hair.  
  
“Hey Edér, I got her things from the inn. How is she-?” Aloth paused mid-sentence when he noticed her standing in front of the fireplace with her weapon drawn to Edér.  
  
Maryden looked from Aloth to Edér and back again. Then she noticed that she was trembling and her greatsword along with it. That _never_ happened. Edér shot her a look, one that was not serious or stern but more akin to sympathy. When she saw that, she down-casted her eyes and felt her cheeks and eyes burn.  
  
“I’m sorry.. I-” she started, but her voice was not working as it should be.  
  
“You had every reason to,” Edér said, justifying her actions when he should not. He took the greatsword from her trembling hands and placed it back against the fireplace mantel. “Aloth told me what you have endured before getting to Gilded Vale. That’s tough for everyone.”  
  
Maryden tried to take in deep breaths and not succumb to the emotions of shame, relief and the lurk of panic. She finally took a hold of herself, levelling everything out but her mind swirled.  
  
“I’m sorry, I need to take a breath of fresh air.”  
  
“Do you want me to come with you?” Aloth said, his grey eyes shimmering with worry. Maryden shook her head and as she passed him, she grabbed his shoulder in reassurance giving him a false upturn of her lips at the same time to hopefully quell his thoughts of concern.  
  
“No need, I’ll just be outside. It’s good to see you, Aloth,” She said, stumbling over her own words as nothing better came to mind.  
  
“Likewise, Maryden,” the elf replied softly and watched the front door of Edér’s home close behind her.

* * *

After Maryden had calmed down, setting her mind straight and washed herself with the water from the water barrel, she had been ready to come back inside.  
  
She discovered that Edér had helped Aloth the moment she passed out at the tree. Some villagers and guards had seen her near it, and fearing of the repercussions along with the history of the village, Edér had then decided that they all had to stay with him for the moment, instead to continue their stay at the inn. Sending off Aloth for their stuff, whilst he bought the provisions. Meanwhile, both had been taking care of her. Successfully breaking the fever that had been plaguing her for Gods knew how long.  
  
“Say, what are you going to do about your ‘Watcher’ thing?” Edér asked. Maryden pursed her lips, her mind drifting back to the dwarven lady.  
  
“I have to talk to some old guy, called Maerwald. He’s supposed to be up at Caed Nua, assumingly beyond the Black Meadow. Have you heard of it?”  
  
The man nodded. “I do. It’s abandoned, but we can always take a look though.”  
  
Aloth looked at the man almost incredulously. “Are you coming with us then?” Edér shrugged at the question.  
  
“I have nothing here except the angry villagers, and I’m now very sure to be number 19 on that tree after they’ve seen me helping you. I’m game if you will have me,” he said with a smirk. “Plus, I’ve been wanting to ask the Old Watcher some questions.”  
  
Aloth and Maryden shared a glance. Just moments ago her mind wouldn’t trust him, yet her gut wanted to, but that was before she discovered that Edér was truly a trustworthy man. Aloth nodded firmly.  
  
“Then we’ll welcome you aboard.”


	4. Reverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse of Maryden's past life. I read that Fire god-like are objects of both reverance and fear. I supposed that in The Living Lands, which is a mountainous and foresty land, they are considered with caution. Next chapters are longer and we meet Durance!

“I’m sorry what happened to you,” Maryden said to the Lost Spirit of a priest, its essence floating in front of them and casting a purplish hue on their surroundings that seemed to emanate from itself.  
  
Fear wafted of the spirit in waves, fraying at her own emotions. She understood its distress after it had shown her what its last waking moments were; in the dark with fellow priests realizing that no one was going to rescue them, and that it would die here. This was the third priest she had encountered the spirit from, and they’d all ended in this same horrible way.  
  
“I hope you find some piece in the next life. I _will_ confront Wirtan, I promise.”  
  
A wave of comforted fear washed over her and the spirit settled back in the skeletal remains from where it came from, the glowing purplish light disappearing with it. Maryden exhaled and bent down to collect them in a large bag that was already half-filled with the remained of the others. She was careful not to damage the bones out of respect.  
  
“No matter how many times I see you staring off at nothing, it doesn’t get any less weird,” Edér said, scratching the back of his head. Maryden did not reply to that except shrugging her shoulders; it still weirded her out too. She straightened up and hoisted the bag of the remains of the Eothasian priests over her shoulder.  
  
“What did the spirit told you?” Aloth asked, the torch that he held casting sharp shadows across his features.  
  
Maryden sighed and rubbed her forehead, the upcoming headache was an expected symptom; it seem to happen every time she looked into the past of another.  
  
“They were running, hiding. Wirtan locked them up and promised to get them when the coast was clear,” she started. Her voice was soft and mournful. “But he never did.” Edér cursed at her words and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
“That lying-,” he did not finish his sentence. Maryden gave him a compassionate look and the party started to venture up again, towards the entrance of the temple, in silence.  
  
She had discovered in this short period of time that Edér had served in the Saints War, against Waidwen despite that he was a fellow Eothasian. His brother Woden had also enlisted. They’d both figured that the God of Forgiveness would never go to war, so St. Waidwen couldn’t be his human vessel. But after Waidwen had ‘blown-up’ (he didn’t spare her the details) Edér had never heard from the God ever since. Despite his prayers.  
  
Because Edér was an Eothasian he was regarded with suspicion in Gilded Vale if the looks that the townspeople gave him could tell, even if they knew that he did not side with Waidwen. Maryden somehow felt bad for him. He gave her the feeling that he was adrift somehow, trapped between two places but never truly seemed to belong anywhere. Maryden could relate to him.  
  
Wirtan jumped up from his spot against the temple wall when he spotted them coming up the stairs. He smiled nervously at them as they approached, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.  
  
“Look! I managed to patch myself up a bit; the arm’s not bleeding anymore,” he showed the bloody limp. His eyes darted to each of their faces, seeming a bit skittish. “You were down there for a while. Did you.. find anything?”  
  
Maryden shared glances with Edér and Aloth before she gently placed down the bag of bones on the ground at her feet. “You lied to us.”  
  
Wirtan seemed taken aback by her statement and stuttered a bit in his nervousness. “B-but I told you there were creatures down there and that it could prove to be difficult! I-I can pay you more if they were quite a handful?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Wirtan opened his mouth to protest but something in their expressions stopped him. Maryden glared at him, straight in the eyes and he took a small step back in response. Then he sighed, defeated and casted his eyes down to his feet before talking in a small voice. “How? H-how did you..?”  
  
“How could you betray them, Wirtan? They trusted you,” Edér began. His deep voice sounding odd.  
  
Wirtan made a wounded noise at that. “Betrayed? I was never one of them! Mad followers of the Shattered God. If I could have chased them all out of town, I.. If,” he stammered. Then sighed and began anew.  
  
“I tried to warn them. Every. Single. Day. Lord Raedric would not put up with them any longer and they were in danger, but they did not listen. They did not understand the dangers I took to help them, to make them understand. I could’ve been arrested alongside them!”  
  
“Wait, did you work for Raedric?” Aloth asked, wanted to clear some up. Wirtan nodded, albeit slowly.  
  
“I used to, but not anymore. It’s been a while since I held a sword,” he gestured to his bloody arm. “But Raedric eventually ordered us to round them up, lock them in cells. But I didn’t want that; so I suggested they hid in the vault, with the old relics and gold and such. I figured that when they got out they could use the gold and relics to buy them passage to safety, to Aedyr.”  
  
His expression turned sorrowful and he sat down on the ground, his face buried in his hands. “But when I told the men that the priests were already ‘gone’, they ordered the temple sealed,” he said muffled, his voice cracking a bit. “I couldn’t get in again. I couldn’t safe them.”  
  
Edér eyes had grown wide with disbelief. “Nothing but to tell people, organize a rescue! I would’ve dug them up with my own bare hands,” he said, his deep voice lowering with something akin to anger. “They were one of the last decent people left in this hole, but now we only got people like _you_ ,” he spat.  
  
“You could have spoken up. Tell Raedric the truth,” Maryden murmured. She tried to remain calm, but those last moments of those priests still flashed before her minds-eye.  
  
Wirtan sighed, mournfully and let his hands drop on his lap. “I could have, but I didn’t.” He looked up at them, cheeks wet with the tears. “Now, I told you what happened,” he started with a rough voice. “I guess it’s up to you what to do next.”  
  
“It’s not too late to make amends,” Maryden said. She earned a foul look from Edér, but choose not to react.  
  
“But h-how? It’s been years!”

* * *

  
“Do you think Wirtan will live up to his promise? Bury the priests in respect and turn his life around?” Aloth asked her, as they walked underneath the archway of Gilded Vale that signaled the end of the village’s border. Before they’d left, they had sought out Aufra, Calisca’s sister, who was devastated with the news of her unfortunate fate but glad that she received it.  
  
The woman was with child and scared of it being a Hollowborn. As an oath to Calisca, Maryden had brought it upon herself to help the woman in every way she could. Even if that meant going to Anslög’s Compass near the coast to find an old mid-wife named Ranga who supposedly could prevent children to be born Hollow.  
  
“He truly seemed sorry,” Maryden began, hoisting her pack higher upon her shoulder to distribute the weight evenly. “So yes; I think he will live up to his promise. He does not look like the man to waste second chances to me.”  
  
“You believe in second chances then?”  
  
Aloth looked at her before glancing ahead, to Edér’s back who had taken point of their little three-man group. The Elf had a certain tone in his voice that Maryden could not pinpoint, but she nodded and whispered with a heavier heart than she meant to.  
  
“Depends. I used to do it more often..”  
  
“Bad experiences?” Aloth replied a bit hesitantly, as if he was treading on thin ice with her. He was.  
  
“Unfortunately.”  
  
When sky had darkened almost completely, the party had covered some descend ground and decided to set up camp. Aloth was currently working on the stew, stirring the brew with a wooden spoon whilst adding some herbs every now and then.  
  
“I will teach Edér what _proper_ food is,” he had said after his discussion with the man about Dyrwoodan food and how bland it tasted. Thus, took up the role of cook. Maryden was glad, because she could barely boil an egg, not that she would ever tell that to the guys.  
  
Edér had decided to chop some wood for the fire, as Maryden scouted their environment. Aside from a few deer there wasn’t a living thing near them that could pose a threat. They had camped some distance away from the road, to avoid bandits, and with their backs to series of boulders to eliminate the element of surprise.  
  
“I see that dinner is ready?” Maryden posed the question with an upturn of one eyebrow, but with a hint of amusement. Edér and Aloth looked up from their bowls of stew, mouths full. Aloth swallowed thickly before speaking.  
  
“It was ready before, but you took quite some time to get back.” He shared a look with Edér. “So we figured to start eating.”  
  
“You can tell me that you were too hungry to wait, Aloth,” Maryden smiled as she took her own bowl and scooped up some of the spicy smelling goodness into it. Her stomach growled in response. The Elf flustered a bit at her words and nodded, easing his uncomfortable silence by taking another mouthful.  
  
“How is it?” She directed her question to Edér, who knew nothing of the Aedyrian cuisine.  
  
“A bit too much spice, that ruins to flavor of the stew itself. But not bad,” he said honestly and took another bit.  
  
Maryden ate the hot stew, liking how it smelled and tasted. It filled her stomach quite nicely and she was more than ready to take up another day of hiking through the forest. She briefly wondered if Aloth had bewitched the stew to make her feel so satisfied.  
  
“You know,” Edér began, placing down his wooden bowl before his feet. “At first I was angry at you, for giving Wirtan a chance to redeem himself, but as we walked I thought about it. What kind of man would one be; not allowing people to take second chances just because they made a mistake or something happened they had no influence on.”  
  
“One would be a man with faults of his own. Strict and narrow in his thinking, unable to open himself up to the outside world and view the world in with a different and fresh mindset. I pity those kind of men,” Maryden whispered softly.  
  
“I almost immediately think of this lord Raedric,” Aloth said, scratching his chin in thought. “His actions seemed to have been born out of fear for the Legacy, and because of his fear he rules with an iron fist over Gilded Vale. But he does not seem to acknowledge the consequences of his actions.”  
  
“Perhaps one day, someone will stand up and defy him. Giving the people of the Gilded Vale a second chance,” Edér replied, lighting his pipe.  
  
‘ _Perhaps, one day.._ ’ Maryden repeated it in her thoughts as she cleaned up the kettle and bowls in a nearby stream of water. Gilded Vale feared him, that much was obvious. Perhaps the Lord indeed needed someone to defy him, but why wait until it was too late and the population was either crushed by the despair for their Lord, or murdered because they rioted against his rule.  
  
When she returned to camp, she noticed that only Aloth was sitting there, a thick tome opened on his lap.  
  
“Where’s Edér?”  
  
Aloth shrugged and gestured ahead. “He ventured off in that direction, muttering that he had to do something before her forgot. He will be back-” Aloth barely finished his sentence when Maryden walked in the direction he had gestured to. Worried etched its way into her, why she had no idea. He was a warrior, capable of handling himself in dire situations.  
  
Then Maryden noticed him in the distance, kneeling in front of his sword with his forehead almost touching. She stopped, giving him some distance and almost felt like she intruding on something private.    
  
“I know you’re there.”  
  
She flustered about being caught, but when he talked she took a few steps in his direction. “Sorry, I did not mean to intrude. I was just worried.”  
  
“Really?” The man smirked at her when he stood up and pulled his blade out of the ground, sheathing it. “Scared that I would run off?”  
  
The hint of amusement in his voice signaled that it wasn’t his intention, but Maryden played along and gave him a grin of her own. “Something like that. What were you doing anyway.. if I’m not imposing..” she hesitated.  
  
Edér walked towards her and glanced back at the spot where he had been kneeling just a moment ago. He seemed in thought. “I was praying for the Eothasian priests, paying my respect as someone who follows the same God.” Then he glanced back at her.  
  
“Want to hear something?”  
  
“Uh sure,” Maryden said a bit taken back, feeling a bit sheepish. The crows-feet next to Edér eyes wrinkled in mirth as he took in her expression.  
  
“And the sun shall break through the darkness, the new dawn arriving with the rebirth of the day. Rejoice all ye who has dwelleth in the shadow, who are broken and beaten,” Edér chanted, his eyes glancing up to the star scattered sky.  
  
His features relaxed as he had allowed the words to guide him and Maryden could almost feel something radiate off of him. It was something serene radiating from his very being, from his soul and she could almost imagine its tendrils reaching out.  
  
“The winter  soon comes to an end. Spring shall rise, bringing light and life to the world. Radiant light, radiant life, and thy soul shall find warmth in its arms.”  
  
He paused and then smiled as if he remembered something joyful and he looked off in the distant nothingness, engulfed by his own thoughts. It caused Maryden to smile back in response because it was so genuine.

* * *

  
_“GET OUT!”_  
  
_Maryden stammered back, her hand instantly on her jaw that was already turning red and perhaps even purple. Air was whizzing in her lungs, her heart pumping ferociously because of the adrenaline that coursed through her veins._  
  
_She gasped when another fist was hurled at her, ducking away just in time and almost tripped over her own two feet in her haste to scramble away from the man that had once been her father._  
  
_“GET OUT!” He bellowed from the top of his lungs. He regarded her with bloodshot brown eyes, his face equally red from rage with a thick vein popping on his forehead._  
  
_Behind him, her mother was holding her younger brother protectively. There was a fearful look in both of their eyes, but her mother’s green gaze was sharper. Fear had latched onto hate in that emerald gaze of hers, erasing any trace of a mother’s loving gaze for her daughter._  
  
_When Maryden glanced at her younger brother seeking any sort of help, he squirmed at her gaze and buried his face into his mother’s chest, who in turn snarled and snapped at her._  
  
_“Haven’t you heard him?! Leave and never come back! Abomination,” she huffed the final word with resentment._  
  
_Her father took another threatening step in her direction, raising large balled fist in the promise of pain if she did not hurry and obey._  
  
_Maryden quickly tore open the door of their little cottage and fled. Her bare feet slipping and tripping in the mud as she ran and ran through the small village._  
  
_“Abomination!”_  
  
_“Bitch!”_  
  
_“Monster!”_  
  
_Words alike followed her like the souls of the damned, but eventually died down as she managed to flee into the woods. Twigs and pebbles embedded themselves into the soft soles of her feet that had only seen 10 winters pass, growing a bit like her body after each passing day, month and year until she would venture into womanhood._  
  
_A root managed to hook onto Maryden, abruptly stopping her flight. She was sent to the ground with a sickening force and despite the moss it was hard and unforgiven for her frail body. There Maryden lay, on the forest floor surrounded by the dark, tall mountain trees of the Living Lands, sobbing in a crumpled mess. Her flaming hair the only spec of light._


	5. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things go a bit downhill for Maryden here. Understand that Edér doesn't really know her that well.. yet. Neither of our companions really. But bear in mind that they will over time. As normal: I am too lazy to grammar check. Sue me. ;)

_“Monster!”_  
  
Maryden shot up from her bedroll taking in a heaving gasps of air as her heart hammered away in her chest. Stray strands of red hair clung onto her sweaty face that she wiped away with trembling hands. She was still acclimatizing to the waking world when she laid back down with palms pressed against her eyes. Willing the unwanted memories to go away.  
  
Slowly the pounding of her heart stilled along with the sweating and tremors as the memories became suppressed once more and disappeared beneath the surface of her conscience. She let out a large sigh that was sort of an encouragement for her to get her day going and hoisted herself up once again. With a cloth she wiped at her neck and face, erasing all traces of sweat and started to put on her brigandine armour and boots.  
  
The weight of it all on her body was unexplainable comforting. She was cased literally and figuratively in armour. Finally she grabbed her greatsword and its sheath and exited her tent, the crispness of the air a blessing.  
  
Outside it was still dark, but in the sky there were the traces of light that were still a faint yellow but soon would turn to gold and orange. No bird had woken yet at this early break of dawn, keeping the world around her doused in silence aside from the rustles of trees in the wind and the occasional snore or sleepy murmur of her other companions of the group.  
  
Durance, who had taken the final watch of the night, was seated in front of the bonfire or what was left of it. His eyes had been staring intently at its dying embers, the faint light of it making his glow like embers themselves. Together with his gaunt, scarred face he almost looked like one of the dead.  
It unsettled Maryden, but she ignored it and crushed it down especially when his eyes shot up from the embers straight into hers when she took her first step on the grass.  
  
“The dreams could not keep you warm?” He inquired, his eyes looking at her strangely when she approached. It was if he knew, or _felt_ it. Maryden wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  
  
“No. They did not,” she said curtly and sat down opposite of him on a log. The fresh air of dawn and forest was threatened to be overshadowed and Maryden could not help but to pull a grimace. Durance shook his head and prodded the embers with the bottom of his staff.  
  
Durance was a strange man, claiming to be a priest of Magran who was one of the gods that had purged Eothas. He was the definition of ugly; long unkempt hair and scruffy dirty beard, burnt robes and a sweaty and scar-riddled face that even a whore had a hard time looking at. The smell he emanated did not help much.  
  
He spoke in almost an aggressive straight forwardness and riddling at the same time that was off-putting to everyone at first. But at the same he was a man of secrets. Maryden had this gut feeling.  
  
“How do you know I’m a Watcher?” Maryden finally asked, her eyes lifting from the embers to his own. They were black in this lighting.  
  
The priest seized his prodding and leaned on his staff, which was engraved and could be seen glowing in her peripheral vision, but when she focused the glowing seized. Weird. Durance seemed oblivious to it though or chose to ignore it.  
  
“I saw you in the flames, nor your face but that soul of yours,” he grunted with narrowing eyes. “All tight and bunched up like a knot. I believe there are things we can teach each other.”  
  
“Such as?” She sounded almost skeptical.  
  
There was a strange flicker in his eyes. It was as if the embers had gone alight again, but instead of the fire place it had nestled into his black depths. It drew her in like a moth to a flame, absorbing her thoughts before she could stop it with the whispers increasing and threatening to overwhelm her hearing. The engravings staff that he clutched with his grimy hands seemed to glow a bit brighter than it used to and everything but the depths of his eyes blurred.  
  
“We’ll have to see and wait.”  
  
By the sound of his gruff voice, she instantly snapped out of it and shut her eyes. Not even a second had passed but that moment had felt like an eternity. Maryden instinctively reached up and touched her head, an ache settling over it as the whispers reduced to its normal and ever present murmuring. When she looked up again, she saw the priest stand up and walk away past the tents. Murmuring something about water and food.  
  
Only now did Maryden notice that it dawn had come and the birds were already chattering away. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

  
“Durance!” Maryden shouted after her swipe with her great sword, taking one half of a xaurip with her. The blood was warm on her face. Instantly something divine bestowed itself on her, washing most of her fatigue away.  
  
With renewed strength the Godlike ploughed through the heavy sand where she could barely get a grip own. The xaurips however did; they were small, agile and reptile like creatures. Chirping and hissing as they bounced around the group, not slowed down by the sand like they were. What the xaurips lacked in height and strength they got in numbers.  
  
Maryden hauled up her greatsword and charged, using its weight to give her moment and cleaved down several of the little monsters in one swipe. She was ablaze, a speck of light on the battlefield and attracting most of the xaurips due to her nature. The sensation of magic building up in the air made the hairs on her neck stand on end, it was instantly gone in the form of a gigantic fireball Aloth had summoned. Frying a clutter of xaurips to a crisp.  
  
“Bloody annoying- “ Edér grunted when he finally struck down the last one, his face sweaty and his blade bloodied. He sheathed it, cleaning it up later when they would set up camp. Maryden followed his example and walked back towards Durance and Aloth, who had been casting some distance away. They looked tired as well.  
  
“Have I already  told you that I hate sand?” Aloth groaned when they ploughed through it. The Elf shook his leg and he pulled a face. “God, I have it in my boot.”  
  
“Elf, if you can’t take on the hardships of life than maybe you shouldn’t be here,” Durance snapped at him.  
  
“I- what? How _rude_ ,” the Elf stammered with a fluster of anger. Durance laughed quietly.  
  
The priest and the wizard did not like each other, that was for sure. Durance could press all of Aloth’s buttons that made him stammer or flush red. They were complete opposites where as Aloth was discreet, almost posh, the priest was loud and not shying away from sensitive topics, voicing his views on matters openly no matter how rude, harsh or sexual they were.  
  
He was figuratively prodding him with a stick, seeing of the wizard would dance.  
  
Maryden closed her eyes and breathed, forcing her adrenaline high away and she could feel her flaming hair turn practically normal and the heat in her gaze reduce to a smolder. The wind picked up the strands that weren’t plastered to her face by the sweat, cooling down her heated skin. She opened them when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, only then realizing that she had been swaying.  
  
Edér looked at her, a frown on his face and concern in his eyes. “You okay?” He murmured softly, not willing to put her in the spotlight as Aloth bickered behind them, trying to argue with a bellowing Durance. Dance monkey, dance.  
  
Maryden nodded and wiped the sweat and blood from her brow with the back of her hand, the thick leather of her gloves coarse on her skin. “Yes, just a bit tired.”  
  
It was a half-truth. She had not been sleeping well, tossing and turning as her dreams were filled with nightmares and whispers. The visions of people strung up or being tortured when they walked on the road during the day did not help either. Maryden felt stressed, thinned out to the point of breaking. Were it not for the problems of others that she could focus on or her companions Maryden was unsure of how would she fair.  
  
Edér kept looking at her long enough that a faint trace of terror curled up in her guts. The fear of that he would keep asking questions Maryden did not want to face or knew the answer to. But he dropped the matter letting her go of her shoulder with a wink and a reassuring squeeze. Maryden was unsure of what he had seen in her eyes that caused him to drop it, but did not want to dwell on it.  
  
“Hey, we need to get back to Ranga. Your marriage can wait!” the Eothasian yelled over his shoulder. Stopping Aloth’s stuttering and Durance’s laughter effectively. Both spellcasters winced at the idea, Aloth even turning a bit pale of disgust.  
  
A chuckling left her lips and she took point. Trying to keep her feet light, choosing quick steps through the heavy sand instead of letting her feet sink deep. One had to be quick, but it proved to be quite effective and less tiring. Still, when they reached Ranga Maryden felt disgusted.  
  
The Aumaua woman was easily towering over them, even taller than Edér. Her skin was golden brown, faint dark markings across it. Her hair was braided closely to her skull, among the dark chocolate coloured strands hints of grey. Odd green eyes took them in when Aloth told her that they had gotten rid of the xaurip tribe that threatened to kill her assistant, a xaurip as well.  
  
The woman looked at her expectantly, her golden gaze set hesitant. “Is it done?”  
  
Maryden nodded. “The xaurip tribe is no more, we’ve also gotten the spores that you needed for the potion?” She handed the Aumaua a small bag, its contents soft.  
  
Her eyes instantly lit up, squeezing the bag carefully. “Excellent, I will get started on it right away!” The woman walked towards her cauldron and began to work.  
  
Maryden turned when a hand touched the side of her elbow. She looked into Aloth’s eyes.  
  
“Are you sure a simple potion is going to work against Hollowborn?”  
  
The Elf voiced her doubts, but what choice did she have? Leave Aufra, the sister of her deceased friend just out in the ocean in a manner of speaking? At least there would be no harm to try.  
  
‘ _But if the cure was a simple potion shouldn’t the Hollowborn have gone already? Shouldn’t there be normal children running around instead of those without a soul?_ ’ A sceptic voice inside her chimed. Adding fuel to her doubts.  
  
“Here,” the Aumaua woman came back before she could answer Aloth, handing her a vial with the still warm potion in it. It was reddish orange off colour. The smell of it odd. “Tell her to drink it before bed, she should feel more energetic in the morning. Also tell to eat more fish and cheese. If I remember Aufra well she is a frail woman-”  
  
“Wait,” Maryden cut her off, holding up her free hand. “You said that you would make a cure.”  
  
Ranga crossed her arms over chest and regarded her coolly. “I  can tend to ailments of the body, but not the affliction of the soul. As I’ve explained many times; people believe what they want.”  
  
“You-” Edér began, the tendrils of anger lacing in his voice. “You are telling us to _lie_ to her? To let her _believe_ that this will prevent her child from being Hollowborn?”  
  
“Faith is a powerful thing, so let her believe. If her child is not claimed by the Legacy it will be healthy, if that I can assure you,” Ranga continued, unfazed by Edér angry gaze.  
  
Maryden stared to the potion in her hand. There were so many wrongs into lying against Aufra, tell her something that was false and will probably not work.. but would it be so bad? She clenched down on to the potion, the leather of her gloves groaning as she breathed deeply through her nose. She felt the group around her waiting for her answer.  
  
“Thank you Ranga, for your expertise,” the Godlike murmured softly and calculated trying not to betray her inner turmoil. The Aumaua smiled down at her.  
  
“Your welcome. If you need any rest or come by from time to time, my campfire is yours.”

* * *

  
_“Use your weight!” Riordan bellowed at her._  
  
_Sweat ran down in droplets down her face and her neck. The clothing on her back was soaked and her arms were trembling from exertion. But still, she charged again and again and again towards the makeshift dummy in front of her. It had been the victim of her onslaught. The marks on the tough wood were proof._  
  
_“Harder!”_  
  
_She did try, truly. Maryden Treshyr gave it all her might but she could do no more and crumpled down on the forest floor on hands and knees, her old heavy practice sword forgotten on the ground next to her. Her arms were trembling as they struggled to support her weight. Maryden gulped a few times, willing the nausea to go away._  
  
_There was a shuffle of leaves, the ground slightly trembling beneath her finger tips as footsteps came towards her. A pair of large feet stuck in thick leather boots stopped in front of her._  
  
_“Get up.”_  
  
_Riordan was not an easy man. He was unforgiving, pushing her until she dropped down and making sure she made an effort and did her best. If he had an inkling that she didn’t his temper was known to flare quick and hot. Something that reminded Maryden too much of her father, though Riordan had never struck her. But the disappoint that would settle in his gaze was harder than any punch she’d received back at home. So Maryden pushed herself to her limits, trying to gain his approval and to get better every single day._  
  
_Scrambling to get up, Maryden threatened to sway, but a large gloved hand on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. The hand moved down to her elbow, grasping it lightly and helped her on her feet. When she stood, Riordan instantly let go. He may be harsh in time but he was never unkind._  
  
_Maryden looked up at him, the upright position giving her room to breathe and the nausea slowly vanished. Riordan looked down at her, his dark brown gaze set sternly and observing. Maryden noticed that his left eye was starting to get milky, less bright than his right. But he never told her about it, nor seemed to have any type of hinder from it in their day to day life._  
  
_“Scale?” He inquired with his gruff voice. It was odd, somewhat scratchy. Maryden figured the scar on his throat had something to do with it, but had never asked._  
  
_“Eight,” she replied._  
  
_“Get your sword, take a breath and practice your footwork,” he commanded. She nodded and did as he asked._  
  
_The scaling was a measurement of how tired she was and he would ask her that on multiple occasions during their training sessions. Depending on the scale he would either increase it, or make her do something else that would make her heartrate go down and her body to recuperate. So instead of charging again, he would make her think and concentrate._  
  
_Riordan gave pointers now and then, in the beginning he had to teach her everything. From how to hold a sword to her feet and her breathing. Now he could so from the side line with a single word or look. She had improved quite a lot in a year._  
  
_“Good job.” He finally said and with that he turned around and left. Maryden took this que to clean up the training site and follow in his footsteps to the trail back to the hut._  
  
_Riordan had found her when she had ran away from home just about a year ago. He had taken her in, training her and forging her in a weapon that she was slowly becoming. The reason he had never told her, but he was kind and gave her purpose. One day, he had said, one day he would take her on one of his treks as a mercenary. One day when he had nothing left to teach her._  
  
_As she caught up to him and smiled, one that Riordan returned his eyes and not his mouth, Maryden half-hoped and half-dreaded for that day to come._  


* * *

__  
Aloth was humming a tune in the distance, a tune that unknown to her but nice to the ear as Maryden sat in front of her tent scribbling away in her journal. It was nice to keep a log of important things that had happened or tasks that she needed to be reminded off. She could always take a look at it and instantly remember.  
  
“So you’re the type of gal to have a diary?” Edér asked with amusement in his voice.  
  
Maryden looked up to see his eyes shimmer with mirth and she chuckled, finishing her final sentence before laying away the quill. Screwing the inkwell shut and placing it in her backpack along with the quill after carefully wrapping it.   
  
“I’m the type to write things down in order not to forget,” she said with a wink and blew carefully on the shining letters before placing it down on the ground so that it could dry. Her handwriting wasn’t that fancy as Aloth’s, but quite simple and readable. She learned to read and write on her travels with Riordan and reading books. A _lot_ of books.  
  
“I can understand why you do it, you have a lot on your mind,” he stated. Maryden merely nodded at his true words. She rubbed her temples, fighting back the thousandth headache of the day. There was some rustling and she looked up to see the fighter sitting down next to her.  
  
“I can always ask Aloth to make something,” Edér murmured, his tone soft and concerned. Maryden gave him a quick weak smile, hoping to reassure him and quell his worry.  
  
“Don’t. We need him at upmost capacity and not waste his magic on my headaches and lack of sleep. Besides, I doubt that it will help,” she countered and sighed defeated on the realization of it. What would she do for a good night’s rest? To get rid of those damn _whispers_..  
  
“Where are you from?”  
  
The random question made her mind tumble, screeching to a halt and she blinked several times as if he asked her some sort of mathematical question that even the greatest scholars could not solve. And of all the replies she answered with a dumb ‘huh’?  
  
Edér _laughed_.  
  
Not a chuckle or a grin, but a full throwing the head back laughter. It was infectious and it caused Maryden to clutched her mouth as she guffawed right there with him, bent over when she couldn’t contain herself. The reason of their cackling that bordered on the edge of insanity was childish, stupid, but they couldn’t help it. The disturbed look that Aloth shot them did not help to quell it, only sending them off in another round.  
  
After a moment, Maryden could breathe again wiping away the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks, her headache was also less prominent than before. She grabbed Edér’s forearm, giving it a squeeze.  
  
“Thanks.. I guess I needed that,” she said with a slightly hoarse voice, stilling the occasional hiccup that threatened to come out due to their little moment of craziness. Edér looked at her, his eyes filled with so many things that Maryden almost had to tear her gaze away for their intensity.  
  
“It’s been so long since I laughed like that,” Edér recalled fondly, but in an instant the light in his eyes started to dwindle as they glazed over. “Not since.. not since-” he stopped himself and let out a deep breath that was almost heartbreaking.  
Maryden saw it then, small flashes of men holding their banners high with pride as they marched. In their midst was a man, shining bright and holy. A God among men. Forgiveness. When she blinked and the vision turned into the real world, she realized she had been talking out loud. Edér looked at her as if he’d seen a ghost. His face that had been browned by the sun had now turned to a sickly pale, his eyes that were first twinkling were now the size of dinner plates and filled with fear.  
  
Not just any fear. Fear of her.  
  
“Edér-” she began, wanting to explain to him that she couldn’t help it. That she had no control of it and just _saw_ whatever spilled across the veil or from his soul. She wanted to say so many things, that she was sorry for what happened and what was probably wrong judging by his reaction, but he had stood up and fled from her. His cape swishing around his ankles, hastily following the man it was attached too.  
  
He took up his sword and shield and walked beyond the ring of light that the bonfire casted. Disappearing in the shadows that was casted on the world around them.  
  
Maryden met Aloth’s gaze desperately searching for help, but he was looking at her strangely. Torn with fascination and horror. The wizard then stood up and followed in Edér footsteps, calling out his name. Durance merely sat near the bonfire, not saying a word and had merely observed the situation.  
  
She felt his curious gaze on her back when she retreated to her tent, hiding from any eyes or judgement and buried her face in her hands. Scolding herself for her lack of control and feeling more alone than she had ever been.


	6. Crushed Hope

The three knocks on the heavy-looking hard wooden door were almost ominous. Her stomach had fallen into her shoes the moment they had stepped once again over the threshold of Gilded Vale. Maryden’s mind was still mulling over what to say to Aufra about the potion. Everyone had made their own opinions clear.  
  
Edér wanted her to tell Aufra about the fake potion. Aloth believed to not tell Aufra anything, and Durance wished that Maryden gave her the potion, lie about it all. Since that was what the woman wanted. Maryden herself was torn, but before she could make it up the door in front of them opened a bit. A familiar face peeking out the door before opening it fully.  
  
“You’re back!” Aufra gasped, hope crossing her face. She stepped aside and gestured to them. “Please come in, come in! I just made some soup, do you want any?”  
  
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. If any of you want to, go ahead,” Maryden said to the rest of her group. Who didn’t say no to the offer. Aloth shot her a worried look, that she chose to ignore.  
  
The whole journey to Gilded Vale had been somewhat uncomfortable. Edér had been treading careful around her, speaking to her only when he had to. He became reserved towards her, but had been laughing and pulling Aloth’s leg and figuratively prodding Durance all the time as if there had been nothing wrong. It was like he was terrified of her, they all were (except for Durance) of what she might say or see. It made Maryden feel like an outsider, the third wheel and a freak.  
  
‘ _Abomination,_ ’ a voice sinisterly whispered in her head.  
  
“So,” Aufra began as the men started to indulge themselves. Aloth looking at Edér and Durance with disgust as they both slurped noisily. Aufra and Maryden paid no heed to it, both women walking to the cauldron at the far end of the small room. Calisca’s sister started to stir the soup in the cauldron with a long wooden spoon. So that it wouldn’t boil.  
  
“Have you- did you-?” She began, a tremble in her voice.  
  
Maryden reached into her pocket and pulled out the potion. Staring at it for a second before holding it out to Aufra, who gently took it from her hands almost reverently. “Lady Ranga said that you needed to take this before going to bed, next morning you will feel more energetic,” she explained. A strange feeling settling in her gut as Aufra examined it, hope in her eyes. Hope for her unborn child.  
  
“This, this will help?” The hope was evident in her voice, pleading Maryden to say ‘yes’ to make her _believe_ that this was the cure for her child. To prevent it from being born hollow, without a soul.  
  
In that brief moment Maryden seriously considered it, she _wished_ it but the Gods were unmerciful to her wishes and Aufra’s hopes and whispers. This woman, Calisca’s sister, was unworthy of being lied to, of being led on. So Maryden said ‘no’ and watched the light in the soon-to-be-mother’s eyes die.  
  
The world was unfair.  
  
Aufra glanced down at the small vial in her hands. The fire underneath the cauldron lighting her face and the room behind her. She had stopped stirring it, causing the soup to boil. Her mouth opened and closed several times and her eyes flicked up from the vial to Maryden’s face and back down again.  
  
“I’m sorry, Aufra.”  
  
Maryden _felt_ the woman’s heart break and placed a hand on her shoulder, grasping it tightly to prevent Aufra from crumbling along with it and to offer support. Aufra did not shake it off, instead she grabbed it with one hand as the other held the vial so tight her knuckles turned white. Tears glistened in her eyes, but when the woman sighed her physique relaxed and the took her hand of Maryden’s, to wipe the tears away that threatened to spill. Aufra turned to her, her eyes defeated and the smile that tucked at her trembling lips a lie.  
  
“Thank you.. for being honest. I hoped.. ” her voice faltered so she stopped talking, taking another breath. She set the vial down on the fire mantle and fumbled with her hands. “I suppose all I can do now is pray. Perhaps the Gods will be kind.” Aufra hesitated a little, before asking; “Will you pray with me?”  
  
“Of course I will,” Maryden whispered and nodded.  
  
She followed Aufra towards outside of the house, towards the garden. It was dark and the rain was in the air, but did not quite yet fall. Maryden felt it then, a memory. Two girls giggling, both blond-haired and around the age of 8 and 10, holding hands and jumping around. The memory was one of joy and mirth, but with a tinge of sadness. Instinctively Maryden knew it was one of her and Calisca when they were young, still naïve of the horrors in the world. It changed, appearing faster than the memory before. It showed a man and Aufra, hugging and kissing. The sun shining down on Gilded Vale making it beautiful and alive. It changed again, now showing Aufra waving to her husband, smile on her face as he left for a hunt. It changed once more to show Aufra bawling, collapsed into the dirt as she had discovered the death of her love, father of her unborn child. The memory faded quickly and Aufra showed no inclinations of that she noticed Maryden’s unintentional visit to her soul.  
  
They stood in front of a small stone cross in the garden. Flowers adorning it.  
  
“My husband,” Aufra explained the thing Maryden already knew, but did not speak out loud.  
  
She kneeled and so did Maryden. Unsheathing her sword out of respect and held onto the hilt, point burying in the ground before her. Like she had seen Edér do several times as he prayed to Eothas each night. Maryden did not know what caused her to mimic his action, but it felt right at the time. She closed her eyes when Aufra began to talk.  
  
“Dear Gods.. thank you for the day you have granted me. Please watch over soul of my husband and that of my dear unborn-”  
  
Aufra’s voice faded into the background into soft murmuring as Maryden _listened_. The whispers were unrelenting and loud, but still inconceivable. Gibberish. Her head started to feel light and heady, but it was a sensation she could not control. Flashes jolted through her minds-eye, intense and bright. There was tower like the one she had woken up to after the bîawac, but now in full glory. Shining and humming, the energy in the air making her skin crawl. This was wrong.  
  
She was amidst those dressed in the same black robes as she. In front of her was a man, adorning a giant headdress like two horns. She felt awe towards him, but was at the same time terrified.  
  
The image changed, the tower disappeared and in front of her stood the man she called once called father. _‘Monster,’_ he sneered. Eyes filled with spite and hate. Behind him stood her mother, her little brother clutching on to her for dear life.  
  
The scenery changed again, now it was Riordan. Grey beard coloured dark red, the hairs matted and messy. He was on the ground and sputtered, blood coating his teeth and he reached out to her. ‘ _Help me_ ,’ he groaned.  
  
A hand touching her shoulder made Maryden startle and everything faded, even the whispers toned down a bit. She felt the cold rain on her skin and seep into the clothing on her back. Her hair was stuck to the crown of her head as Maryden stared into the mud in front of her. She was still kneeling, hands clutching the hilt of her sword in a death grip as if it kept her from falling forward.  
  
“Maryden?” It was Aufra. Her voice sounded scared.  
  
Her mind was stuck, wanting to move forward but couldn’t. Hackling and tripping. “I- I,” she began but could not finish her words. She closed her eyes again and the grip on her sword almost faltered. Her head felt stuffed and heavy and she tried to breath focused through her nose to prevent herself from passing out.  
  
“I’m fine,” she finally managed to let the words tumble over her lips and pulled herself on her feet. Her vision swam around her for a minute, the images of hanged and tortured men and women flickering in her peripheral vision. She started to feel sick, but did not hurl out the contents of her stomach.  
  
“Are you sure?” Aufra asked with hesitation.  
  
Maryden chuckled briefly but without joy because of the confrontation. A defense mechanism. When she was sure of that her legs wouldn’t give out underneath her she pulled her sword out of the ground and sheathed it, she would clean off the mud later.  
  
“I’m fine,” Maryden reassured her.  
  
Aufra looked at her strangely, a mixture of confusion, hesitation and a little sliver of something else that Maryden could not place. The woman nodded and gestured to her to follow, the drops of rain grew in size. The intensity increasing and they were both almost soaked when they reached the insides of her small little cabin.  
  
“Thank you, again,” the woman said with gratitude, her warm hands encasing Maryden’s cold ones. “If you ever need something, let me know alright?”  
  
Maryden looked up to see determination and worry etched in the soon-to-be-mother’s face. She nodded, despite the knowledge that she wouldn’t burden the woman with her own problems about souls and visions. Aufra had other things to worry about than her.  
  
“I will,” Maryden lied. The taste of it sour on her tongue.

* * *

  
“Ugh,” Aloth snorted behind Maryden as he hoisted his pack up higher over his shoulder. “At least we’re out of that mudhole, Gilded Vale.”  
  
“You know, I grew up there. In Gilded Vale,” Edér informed, stroking his beard with one hand.  
  
Maryden glanced at them over her shoulder, seeing how Aloth grew flustered and stammered a few times before he uttered that it was ‘quaint’. Edér laughed heartedly at his embarrassment as he was just pulling the wizard’s leg, it was deep and resonating around them. The world just barely waking up from its slumber.  
  
Quickly she tore her gaze away from him and focused on the road, feeling odd. Conflicted. She pressed for a moment her hand against her forehead to quell her headache, the whispers annoyingly louder than they used to be. Perhaps they increased as she grew more tired?  
  
“It was stupid of you to refuse that Trumbel’s reward,” a gruff voice said with an accusing tone. Maryden opened her eyes to see Durance glaring at her. “We could’ve used it.”  
  
“Durance, we talked about this. The miller and his family had a lot of trouble from Sweynur, they could use the money since the crops are dying and,” Maryden gestured to the large backpack she carried, “we have plenty of coins. Sometimes you don’t have to take gifts people offer, because they themselves need it the most.”  
  
The priest stared at her. The inky black depths of his eyes almost demonic in this early hour of dawn.  “You will regret it.”  
  
He had said it with such certainty that Maryden almost instantly did, but she shook it off when the agitation within her grew. ‘ _What does he know? He’s a bitter old man, thinking everything is a waste,_ ’ she darkly thought.  
  
The agitation and wariness of her condition continued to simmer on the surface even when the sun had risen high up in the sky and threatened to fall back down again, dousing the world in darkness. They were now in the Black Meadow. A dark, almost swamp-like area. Tomorrow at noon they would reach Caed Nua, according to Edér who had recently began speaking to her again.  
  
‘ _Perhaps it was Aufra? They were both whispering before we left._ ’  
  
Maryden tried to stop the rising unease the thought and memory it invoked. It all felt so secretive. She remembered how Edér placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing it as he stared directly into her eyes. She had walked away then, feeling estranged and intrusive.  
  
‘ _Perhaps they were-_ ’  
  
Abruptly she extinguished her train of thought and lit the campfire in an instant, the spark from her flints not the reason why it ignited. Maryden breathed focused through her nose, silencing the storm raging inside of her and so the flames dancing in her eyes and hair disappeared along with it.  
  
She stood up, hating how her muscles protested and went to set up her tent. Edér came back with a few rabbits that he and Aloth skinned. Durance was scouting the area, the Black Meadow famous (or infamous?) of its treacherous roads and wildlife. Better to be safer than sorry.  
  
“I hope that old Watcher’s still there,” Edér mumbled muffled with a spoonful of rabbit stew in his mouth. He swallowed. “It’s been years since I heard anything about him.”  
  
Maryden listened, her curiosity peeked as Aloth spoke out the question that has been swirling in her head for some time now. “What do you want to ask him?”  
  
“Something about the War.”  
  
Instantly Maryden casted her eyes back down to the stew, prodding and stirring it, guilt ridden. The moment of awkwardness was almost cringe worthy. Aloth himself also stammered a bit, but quickly regained himself by asking another question.  
  
“So what did you do? Before all of this I mean.”  
  
Edér told about his life , about how he was a trouble maker when he was younger and diffusing the uncomfortable tension. Making his parents go grey with worry, so he said. He talked about farming, his fleeting aspirations to become an Eothasian priest (Maryden had a real hard time picturing that) and his brother. Woden, who had died. Aloth didn’t press into the how and why, but Maryden had a sense it was about the War that Edér was so reluctant to talk about.  
  
He talked about the Purges, the Eothasians getting murdered on the streets just because they believed in Eothas, of how Gilded Vale wanted his head. Also about a little Hollowborn girl on the farm that he worked on and how the animancers had a cure called the Salvation. Where they would put animal souls into the girl’s body, so that it would have some kind of ‘life’ before going mad and rabid.  
  
“The chained the girl up in the shed when she snapped, caught her gnawing on her brother’s bones. The mother did not want to have anything to do it with it, but the father visited her every single day,” Edér contemplated and placed down the empty bowl of his stew on the ground.  
  
“He was just waiting and hoping. Waiting for her to get better look up to him and say ‘Papa’.”  
  
“I-” Maryden began, albeit hesitant. “I’m sorry.” It was partially about his experience with girl, but also about _that_ incident. Edér looked at her for a long time, his green eyes burying themselves into hers until she could no longer meet his gaze and let her own eyes fall to the ground.  
  
“So am I,” he then whispered with his heart.  
  
The evening came and went with tale-telling. Durance plaguing Aloth about not having the pleasure to touch a woman’s bosom, causing the Elf to fluster and mumble tensely. Sometimes Maryden noticed that he talked in an odd accent. Not always, but at moments of great emotion. She made a mental note of asking him about it later.  
  
“So,” Aloth began, turning to her as Edér and Durance prepped in for the night, meaning that Durance would just plump on his bedroll, all sweaty and dirty and that Edér would clean his face and neck with a wet cloth, something he (and Aloth and she) did every single day since no one had the luxury of a bath in the middle of nowhere. Though he would sleep in most of his armour, so did she since neither of them could not cast any type of spells they had to rely on their weapons and armour. And you could be awfully surprised in the wilderness.  
  
“So,” Maryden repeated slowly. A silence came over them where neither of them talked. She looked up at him from her spot in front of her tent. There must have been something in her eyes, for the wizard mumbled a good night and retreated into his tent.  
  
The God-like reached for her journal and opened it. She took a quill and an inkpot and starting writing. Writing what they had done today, writing about Aufra and an inkling of her thoughts. Not too much, a lot of it was private and what if someone unintendedly, or worse, read it.  
  
As agreed she woke Durance for the second watch and retreated in her tent, listening to the grumbling of the priest of Magran when sleep failed to claim her. The whispers overwhelming her.  



	7. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about finding Maerwald always gets me :( On one hand I find it very disturbing, on the other it's sad.. just plucks at my heartstrings.

_“Remember,” Riordan began, his voice stern. “Block with both your arms holding the weapon and not-”_  
  
_“Be hasty and hold it with one,” Maryden droned. “Because the greatsword is heavy and a blow could tip you off balance because of the weight. I know!”_  
  
_The older man smiled at her, a strange look in his eyes that made Maryden glance away, not because it was creepy but foreign to her. “Now come on Riordan, they are waiting for us!” She walked towards a smaller group near the Green Dragon inn, all armed and most of them male. Suddenly Maryden grew nervous, not so sure of herself as she tried to be and show, but a small push of a hand on her back took away the anxiety of her first mission with Riordan and his gang of mercenaries._  
  
_She could do this, she was trained to do this and she was good at it. Thus a young and barely of age Maryden took a deep breath and marched towards the group. Stuck her hand out and introduced herself boldly before Riordan could even utter a word._  
  
_“Hi there! I’m Maryden Treshyr, your newest member.”_  


* * *

  
She woke up from a haze, blinking the sweat out of her eyes but her vision did not sharpen as it should be. Heavy footfalls approached her and something was pressed in her hands. A flacon. Maryden unscrewed the lid and tipped it back, the lewd water a blessing for her throat. She took only two sips before giving it back to the gigantic man, they couldn’t afford to be greedy.  
  
“Thank you, Kana,” Maryden heaved as she hoisted herself up, using her sword and the rocky wall behind her for support.  
  
“No problem,” his baritone voice resonated throughout the cavern. They were deep inside Caed Nua, even below the lowest cellar in search of Maerwald of whom they could find no trace of. But despite they hadn’t seen sunlight in several days, Maryden was determined he was out there. She felt it, she knew it. She _hoped_.  
  
‘ _But what if this was all for naught?_ ’ A dark voice inside of her inquired.  
  
“You are looking pale-”  
  
“I’m _fine_ Kana, thank you,” Maryden pressed, not caring that her tone was unkind. Dismissing the matter. “Have the others woken and eaten yet?” The Aumaua nodded.  
  
“Good, round them up. We’re moving.”  
  
Caed Nua was unkind to those who visited its belly. Monsters lived there that could not bear the light of day and instead dwelled in the darkness that was most kind to them. The fights were brutal, wearing down on her when they once again ascended a staircase. The ghosts that haunted the long-forgotten halls where man-made stone met hard unspoiled rock where a constant phenomenon around each corner. Each with tales of hurt and sorrow and revenge. After a while Maryden ignored them, her task clear in front of her; find Maerwald.  
  
And finally they did.  
  
Maerwald was a large, liver-spotted and barrel-chested man. With filthy strings of grey hair hanging in front of his filthy face. He tripped and cowered in a corner as they approached, holding up his hands as he cried out. “No! Keep away from us!” His rough un-used voice shouted. “Leave us!”  
  
Edér looked at him hesitantly. “Maybe we should come back later?”  
  
Maryden ignored the farmer-turned-fighter and took a few brisk steps forward, ignoring Aloth whispering her name in warning trying to stop her. “Are you Maerwald?” She commanded, throwing politeness in the wind.  
  
The old man flinched at her words, looking at her over his trembling hand. Suddenly the flicker in his eyes changed, so did his expression and he nearly hissed. “Maerwald isn’t here,” he growled raspy. “And he is no fool! He has sent for no callers, begone deceiving spirit!”    
  
The God-like closed her eyes and clenched her fist. After all the torture, the sleepless nights, the fighting she had to deal with _this_? A mad man that was once referred for what he was; a Watcher like her.  
  
“My friend is a Watcher, she was told you could help her,” Aloth’s diplomatic voice was smooth to her ears. Maryden opened her eyes, trying to release her anger and frustration. They would not aid her with the delicate dealings of an ill mind.  
  
The man turned to the wall, having a muttering and sputtering argument with himself. When he turned back to them he stood up, chest puffed and stance rigid and straight like that of a soldier. Another completely different person but with the same body.  
  
“Maerwald will speak with you,” he spoke with a confident loud voice that was so different from the other two. “But keep your distance, or you will have me to answer to.” His posture changed again, slightly hunched over and the hands that he first held so tightly as his sight started to trembled again. This time his voice was old and feeble, matching his appearance.  
  
“Unbelievable,” Maryden heard Kana gasp behind her.  
  
“Come to speak to Maerwald? Maerwald whose touch is poison? Maerwald who knows not his effect?”  
  
Maryden let her posture relax, exhaustion washing over her as she regarded the old man, whose eyes were teary and twitchy. Continuously looking from her to her companions and back. Resembling a scared mouse who’d seen too much horror and is damaged because of it.  
  
“I was told I am a Watcher,” Maryden began softly. “And that you could tell me more about it, for I do not know what is happening to me.”  
  
Maerwald looked at the door opening behind their group, half-distracted as he mumbled, barely audible. “A window. A window to the ether where spirits dwell. Peer and reach to it, speak and listen to it.” His gaze focused back in her, but not directly. As if looking beyond her very being.  
  
“A Watcher sees souls. Reads them and knows their pasts of both living and dead. An empath.” He exhaled feebly, his breath wheezing and groaning. “And the souls sees them back. Used it to help being in both realms, did I. What the gods wanted of me, thought I.”  
  
Maerwald then twitched and spasmed a bit before his stance once again straightened. “The gods put me in a world of vengeance, and I obliged.” Then his head tilted forward, another gleam entering his eyes. “It was the gods’ wishes that we protect those lands. My way was the only way to remove the foreigners!”  
  
He returned to himself once more, pitiful and old. Weak. “Little did I knew.”  
  
Maryden regarded him and she approached him carefully but stayed at a fair distance should he attempt something crazy. “You’ve lost your mind,” she observed.  
  
‘ _As are you,_ ’ the dark voice countered.  
  
Maerwald shook his head, his tangled hair getting even more messy. “No, no! I found more of it! Too much.. too much to bear.” He then looked at her, dead in the eye and straight into her own very soul.  
  
“An Awakening.”

* * *

  
The world was once again descending into darkness, albeit slow. The tendrils of the sun turned desperate. Grasping at the clouds setting them enflamed with golds and reds, as the sky above that turned from a gold to pink, oranges and eventual a purple and blue.  
  
Maryden watched it with great intensity, forcing herself not to think but to enjoy how the warm rays of the sun got eventually obscured by the forest surrounding Caed Nua. Her eyes saw the first stars come alight, not fearing the fiery light of the sun anymore and wanting to illuminate the world in its place alongside the crescent moon.  
  
She remembered laying on her back, when she was still very young, with her little brother. The grass underneath them a soft cushion as they attempted to count them, stopping after a while deeming it hopeless and try to spot constellations. Or make up a few of their own. The memory of it made Maryden smile at first, but then sad at the melancholy of it.  
  
‘ _What if I had been looking at my future self?_ ’  
  
The thought emerged suddenly along with the flashes of the crazed Maerwald and how he had been suffering, his past lives present and scrambling up his mind.  
  
‘ _No sleep for the Watcher._ ’  
  
At deep, overwhelming sensation of dread filled Maryden like a wave, sudden and heavy. Causing her heart to drill against her chest and body to tremble. Before she could cry out in hysterics footsteps approached her, forcing her to swallow it all down and stand up. Willing the involuntary twitching of her hands to seize. It was Edér.  
  
Right, she totally forgot about her companions bustling about, tidying up the bedrooms in the inn called Brighthollow which walls she had been leaning against. The steward of Caed Nua had announced that she was now owner of the stronghold. It was nice to have a sort of place to come back to, but the work what it entailed to bring the keep up and running again was tedious and hard. Maerwald had absolutely done _nothing_ to maintain it.  
  
“Hey,” Edér began, voice soft and green eyes tender. His posture was hesitant as if approaching a beast, or so she interpreted. He looked her over and a brow slightly raised, observing. “Am I interrupting something?”  
  
“No,” Maryden sighed and clasped her hands together in front of her to still them. “I was just watching the sky,” she nodded at the treeline, the partial lie tumbling easily over her tongue. Only a soft orange hue was present but that was quickly fading, dousing the world in darkness.  
  
Edér turned and look at it where she had gestured to. She noticed that moment his tired face and wrinkles that seemed to be set deeper than before.. and here she was having a mental breakdown while they had been working their asses off. When he turned to her again she spoke again. Maryden tried not to sound hopeful, secretly longing to be alone again so nobody could see her despair.  
  
“Shall I clean the bed sheets?”  
  
The fighter shook his head, a wave of his hand to emphasize his point. “No, Kana already did that. Durance had cleaned the rooms out and Aloth is sweeping the floors now. We all figured you needed.. uh.. some alone time after _that_.”  
  
Images of cutting down Maerwald as he ran up to her, arms raised and eyes rabid in attack flashed before her eyes. How his soul felt and disappeared when she sent it back to the Wheel. Maryden shuddered at the thought of it and hugged herself, feeling chilly though it wasn’t that cold outside.  
  
“I-” she began, but her speech faltered, feeling as if her tongue was not her own and refused to work properly. So she stopped talking altogether.  
  
Fearing his eyes Maryden looked at the spot in front of her feet instead but not seeing any of it as she fought the fatigue that was threatening to overwhelm her. Not only physically but also mentally. There was a crack inside of her, fragile but spreading wider and faster in front of Edér when he laid his large hand on her shoulder. They were gloveless and just as sun-kissed as his face. Calloused of years of hard labour, nails short.  
  
He then gestured to the wall and ground with his other, voice soft but commanding at the same time.  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
Maryden did, the tears closer than she would have liked and wiped the few away that threatened to spill. Edér plopped down beside her, their shoulders touching, and reached something out of the pockets of his breeches. It was his pipe.  
  
“Edér,” his name rolled off her lips in a whisper, hinting at a question that she did not voice.  
  
The man did not reply in words, but in a understanding glance of his eyes whilst he took some dried herbs and crushed them inside the small chamber. A practice his muscles in his arms and the tendons in his fingers knew so well that he could probably even do it with his eyes closed. How he prepared his pipe was methodical, oddly calming.  
  
Maryden then closed her own and let her head touch the rough stone behind her as realization nestled inside her gut. Edér knew. He knew how she felt because he’s been on the same verge like her with Woden. He _understood_.  
  
The smell of spice and smoke filled her nose. Overwhelming at first, making her wave her hand in front of her face for a moment and her eyes to sting, but then it became soothing. She looked at Edér take a drag from his pipe, blowing the whitish smoke away in a slow exhale, then he offered it to her.  
  
Maryden took the pipe carefully. It was made of a dark wood; smooth where it wasn’t carved expertly and she entertained the thought that he might have made it himself. Her lips closed around the mouthpiece where Edér’s had been a few seconds ago, the wood warm. She then inhaled slowly, keeping it shallow.  
  
The herbs where almost irritating her throat, threatening to make her choke and cough but she managed to control it and released the smoke, imagining all of her thoughts being drawn from her alongside with it. She took another inhale, before giving it back to Edér who had been watching her closely. It strangely helped.  
  
“Thank you,” her voice croaked, not because of the smoke, and she pulled up her knees to rest her arms on. His shoulder still pressed against her as he took another inhale of his pipe, the warmth of his body radiating through both of their linen shirts.  
  
“Thought you needed it,” he said and looked at her again, the pipe dangling between his fingers. There was a small smile on his lips, not one out of mockery. Relief? “Apparently I thought right.”   
  
Maryden threw him a small grateful smile, one that he clearly caught and returned but in a more wider fashion. Somehow it made her heart and stomach flutter nervously but also in delight and looked at the grass near her feet.  
  
“You did. I’d needed it for a while now. It’s just.. ” she paused for a moment, hesitant, but then decided to take the leap and unveil her demons to him. “I’m scared Edér. I’m scared of the future. Of what might become of me and of this _Leaden Key,_ and Woedica. I might always seem to know what to do, but I don’t.”  
  
The man beside her took a few drags of his pipe dousing them in silence that was a bit uncomfortable. The wind started to pick up the smoke much quicker than before, but the pleasant spicy smell lingered. His voice was soft when he spoke again.  
  
“One day there was boy, young and wild. He was never scared, always the brave one. The unruly one. Then one day, he saw a dog growling and barking at him. The beast almost as big as himself, that was the first time he was terrified, but he vowed never to be scared again. To become stronger,” Edér murmured, his tone neutral and a bit distant as if in thought.  
  
“Growing up, the boy was scared numerous of times in his life like we all are, but each time he vowed to become stronger and stronger. Eventually the boy became harsh, a ruler with an iron hand and having stripped himself of everything because he could not feel anymore. He had become incapable to understand others.”  
  
Edér shifted a bit, leaning more back like she was and stretched out his long legs, occasionally taking a huff from his pipe. “In truth we’re all scared in the end, but Raedric chooses to bottle it up inside thus bringing his whole world down instead of facing it head on. Acknowledging it and learn from it, _that_ is how you get stronger.”  
  
Suddenly Edér laughed, breaking the serious act and started murmuring about how he started to look and act like his father. He turned to her, examining her reaction but in a more light-hearted fashion. “I did not mean to get so philosophical, but you understand right?”  
  
Maryden nodded, smiling a bit due to his infectious laughter. A portion of the dread and despair having flushed out of her system and though the whispers still lingered they did not drive her mad at this very moment. Inside she understood the journey would be tough, hard with ups and downs, but now she felt she could take on the world. He _understood_ her.  
  
“Actually I do. Thank you,” she met his eyes this time without fear, but gratitude as she spoke truly from her heart. For a moment their gazes held each other, not in a competitive battle of wills like manner but merely regarding the other, both comfortable. Edér was the first to break away, scraping his throat and smothering his pipe, stowing it away before standing up. If she didn’t know him any better she would think he was at unease and flustered.  
  
“Let’s head inside, before Aloth and Durance start to wonder we’ve been kidnapped or worse. You know how the Elf gets.” He held out his hand to her, his previous moment of unease completely gone and replaced by twinkling eyes.  
  
“He would be the perfect mother,” Maryden chuckled and grabbed his hand, hers obviously paler and smaller. She let him pull her up, his grip strong and warm, and though she was no small woman he did it with apparent ease. Edér laughed at the mental picture.  
  
When she stood on her feet, their hands held on a second longer before letting go just in time before getting awkward. A part of her instantly missed it, but Maryden took no heed of it and gave the fighter a wink and a nudge with her elbow. “Come on, let’s save them from each other.”  
  
Just in time, because in the moment they walked inside Brighthollow Aloth was spewing insults in an odd accent at a guffawing Durance who barely held himself upright with his staff. The wizard’s cheeks were a flustered red and he stood there with his fists balled and legs apart, almost like he would pounce the priest. Kana was standing off to the side, shaking his head in disbelief but also sporting a guilty smile.  
  
“Wow, wow-” Edér could not hide the tone of amusement in his voice. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Aloth and Durance had a –uh, little conflict,” Kana carefully explained, but did not expose details. The furious Aloth seemed to diffuse and his blush of anger made way for one out of embarrassment. His posture stiffened in its normal confines.  
  
Maryden shot Durance a look of badly contained mirth, figured it was typical men’s humour; about women. “Really Durance, Aloth _again_? You have got to be more original.” The priest glanced at her, his dark eyes twinkling daringly and his ugly pock-scarred cheeks almost containing a fluster.  
  
“Like how you are _enraptured_ by my staff?” The innuendo was quite obvious. Clearly Durance had picked up her occasional staring at his weapon of choice slash walking stick. She couldn’t help it since the wood almost lit up her vision with strange engravings, especially after a fight.  
  
Maryden could hear Aloth gasp and Kana sputtered out of surprise. Edér sniffled, containing a chuckle at the jibe. Maryden only laughed, her good mood not getting spoiled by a riling priest. “Yes, it was quite exquisite. I will dream of it fondly, sleep well,” at the latter she addressed the rest of them.  
  
Waving the men good bye, whom murmured a ‘good night’ and other variations back at her, Maryden ventured up the stairs. Her footfalls heavy, making the wood beneath her groan. Slowly her good mood dwindled until it was just simmering on the surface now that she was once again alone with her own thoughts and fears.  
  
Maryden entered the room where her pack laid in front of, hoisting it inside and draping her brigandine armour over one of the few wooden chairs. She shoved her greatsword underneath the bed, close to her when needed and a knife below her pillow for easy reach. Caed Nua was still far from safe or occupied and bandits were still roaming the area around it.  
  
The room was not that massive, but quite luxurious. Containing a few chairs, a vanity and a large bed that could just fit two people or one big Aumaua. Maryden noticed that it still smelled a bit musty and opened the window just a bit for some fresh air. The bed also had an odd smell, but it beat laying on the ground with just her bed roll between her body and a rock.  
  
Silence settled on the world around as Maryden laid there. She was exhausted, slowly allowing her mind to lull her into a dreamless haze due to it. Thoughts about Maerwald, her future or the road ahead simply crushed by sheer tiredness.


	8. Defiance

After a few weeks when Caed Nua slowly started running and bustling with visitors and labourers the steward had hired, Maryden and her merry band made their way to Defiance Bay. Minus Kana, who wanted to stay behind and learn more about the legend of the ‘Master Below’. It felt a bit ominous and far-fetched, but that was enough to make the Aumaua intrigued. Aloth was somewhat glad.. not having to share his tent with the giant anymore.  
  
“So, what did you want to ask Maerwald Edér?” the wizard blatantly asked, clearly curious as they walked on the road. It was heavily clouded today, rain threatening to overtake them but it had not yet falling. Maryden noticed herself listening in.  
  
“I- uh, wanted to ask him about Woden. About how he died so I could see if it was true if he really fought with Raedceras and Waidwen, like the rumours in Gilded Vale told me. Perhaps by using our connection as brothers or read it in my soul I guess,” the fighter shrugged. At first hesitant but then throwing it all in the wind and tell them anyway. “It was a dumb idea,” he admitted.  
  
“Sure was,” Durance muttered darkly behind them.  
  
“It’s funny because I sure got my hopes up in.. I don’t know. Years.”  
  
It was the first time Maryden heard Edér sound defeated, almost sad. Aloth’s mouth opened and close a few times, a crease between his brows. “If there are any records of the Saints War I bet it’s in Defiance Bay,” the wizard declared hopefully. Edér nodded.  
  
“I thought so too,” he turned to Maryden then, an odd look in his eyes. “You’ve already done a lot for me already, but think you can manage to walk with me to the palace archives? The clerk and I aren’t on the best terms and I would feel better if you tagged along.”  
  
Maryden nodded and smiled. “Of course.. but dare I ask; what did you do to the poor man?”  
  
Edér laughed, though it was not whole-heartedly like he normally did. “Nothing. It's all about him not being objective and me following the wrong deity.”  
  
She silently mouthed an ‘Oh’ for her ignorance, but it was waved away. Guess she really had to get used to these Dyrwoodan Gods and the hate towards Eothasians. Maryden could not recall any Gods from the Living Lands since her family had not been overly religious to begin with, or just didn’t want to involve her. Her father was a man who figured that the so-called Gods would not throw luck or prosperity in your lap and you had to work for it. But despite that, her being a child of Fire was almost blasphemous. Maryden tried not to remember those unpleasant times.  
  
“Have you ever been to Defiance Bay?” She asked Aloth after a while of silent walking. The party had stopped and she hoisted her pack from her sore shoulders, relishing in the feeling of the weights loss. The Elf seemed to startle and suck in a breath, flinching.  
  
“I-uh what?” He blabbered, which was quite uncharacteristically of him. Maryden raised an eyebrow, he was acting odd.  
  
“Are you alright?” She inquired softly.  
  
Aloth was a bit paler than normal, his silky black hair slightly ruffled when he took off his hood. His lips twisted in a small smile.  
  
“Of course, merely processing some of the uh.. unusual things we’ve seen lately,” he clarified. His eyes observed her as Maryden took out her bedroll and her tent in a crouched position, to spare her back from bending over. “And if Maerwald is to believe, you seem to have an unsure future ahead.”  
  
It was if his words were meant to rile something up inside of her, which it did but the confrontation was less scary than before. Unconsciously her eyes slid to Edér, who had his broad back to them and was hammering the robe of the tent in the ground with a small wooden hammer, a tent peg and a practiced aim. She should’ve figured that he would tell Aloth.  
  
“He told me, not everything, but enough that I know you’re worried and frightened,” Aloth said hesitantly, almost ashamed that he knew something about her that she hadn’t told him. Like gossip. “I hope you aren’t-”  
  
“I’m not mad,” she clarified. And she really wasn’t.  
  
Maryden straightened herself with a sigh, rolling her taut shoulder muscles once only to find it a bit painful, so stopped trying to relax the muscles. Her amber eyes took Aloth in, who was still observing her with his own grey ones. “It’s understandable, and I figured you already noticed some things along the way,” she paused to see Aloth nod a single time, almost scared to admit but she gave him a small smile to reassure him. “I just, need to deal with it one step at a time. First we get to Defiance Bay, and see where this Leaden Key is. After that, I will deal with whatever fate throws at me,” she murmured, getting lost in her thoughts.  
  
Aloth patted her shoulder in a comforting manner, pulling out of her mulling thoughts. “I think that’s a very wise course of action,” he spoke with a smile. Was that admiration in his eyes? Maryden smiled back and nodded.  
  
The two returned to the task of setting up their own tent, Maryden prepared the fire as usually as Edér had ventured off to hunt together with Durance. Darkness settled on the world around her, dousing it in blackness and though it was quiet, Maryden knew that all kinds of nocturnal creatures roamed about. From wolves to mice and owls.  
  
It started to rain just slightly, a few pin pricks of drops here and there, nothing major, but they still waited for Edér and Durance to return from the hunt. Eventually Maryden had gotten up and pace around, a bit alarmed that it took them this long.  
  
Finally there were footsteps, and grumbling. But the footsteps seemed more than just of two people, so Maryden grabbed her greatsword and signalled Aloth to stay put but get ready to cast. The faint hum of magic in air made her skin tingle.  
   
“Who’s there!” Maryden called out, the footsteps stopped for a moment, but quickly continued in their direction.  
  
“It’s us, it’s fine,” Edér voice erupted from the darkness and soon followed by his being, Durance right behind him, as well as someone unknown.  
  
A dwarf woman with black raven hair messily braided, a similar coloured stripe of paint covering her eyes, stood next to Edér. Though she just reached his waist, there was a fire in her sparkling brown eyes that made up for her short height. A white fox stood at her side with equally fierce eyes.  
  
“So you must be the Watcher _he_ was talking about,” she gestured to Edér with an incline of her head. The said man looked a bit guilty, shrugging at Maryden’s gaze of confusion as if he didn’t know what was happening also. Durance was cursing beneath his breath as he put down a small doe and started to skin it.  
  
The dwarf woman did not acknowledge Aloth as she walked toward Maryden, merely staring, observing though not criticizing. Maryden stood tall none the less, easing her hold on her great sword and sheathed it. She nodded.  
  
“I am, my name is Maryden. And who is the woman that more or less forced my friends to take her to camp just to meet me?” Her tone wasn’t meant to be suspicious, but Maryden couldn’t help that she was. Her first initial response was to trust, but as life had taught her; people were to be regarded with caution. Say a lot but tell little.  
  
The dwarf did not seem fazed by her wariness, she actually chuckled at it. Approving, it seemed. “I am Sagani, and this is my fox Itumaak,” she gestured to the fluffy white creature next to her, who looked at her with pointed ears. “I was told that you can help me.”

* * *

  
_“Are you ready?” Lorath whispered to her._  
  
_His defined elven face was void of emotion, but Maryden could see the anticipation and lust for battle in his bright eyes. She felt it too in her blood, and he knew. The Pale Elf’s eyes shone brighter and his fingers reached for one of his twin blades when she nodded firmly, grabbing the handle of her greatsword tighter. Lorath gave a sharp whistle between his teeth and they sprang from their cover behind a thick log._  
  
_The heavily armoured militia barely had time to react as they charged, taking them by surprise. There were twangs of bowstrings and arrows soared through the air from behind them, most of them striking their marks. In an instant there was chaos and Maryden felt her blood sing along with the blade of her greatsword._  
  
_Lorath appeared and disappeared in an out of her vision, fighting the militia with agility instead of the brute force she contained. Through the battle field, she heard cries of the dead, of shock and anger, and saw the rest of her group close in around their preys, suffocating them. There was again a sharp whistle, higher of tone than that of Lorath and she took a few paces back. Another barrage of arrows whizzed past her, sometimes barely missing and reached the enemy lines. Sometimes bouncing off steel, sometimes reaching their targets between the crooks and nannies._  
  
_Then she charged again, her boots embedding themselves in the forest floor and greatsword tightly at her side, legs propelling her forward._  
  
_Afterwards they would sing and laugh, the sound of clinging coins not a too far ahead future. It was times like this that Maryden loved her live; the thrill, the money and being outdoors amongst those she considered friends._  
  
_Smiling she looked up to Riordan who sat next to her, his once dark grey hair now getting whiter as years passed, he drank out of his tankard and did not look at her, seemingly engrossed by a story of Belfag; a huge Aumaua who looked horrifying with all of his scars, but Maryden knew no other man who was so trustworthy and loyal other than Riordan._  
  
_Maryden turned her eyes back to the fire, threatening to be engrossed in her thoughts but a firm hand placed itself on her shoulder, squeezing it firmly. She instinctively knew it was Riordan and let her weight lean a bit against him. His hand travelled to her other shoulder, holding her against him in a securing and comforting way as a father would to do with his daughter, grounding her as he took another swig of his beer. Maryden sighed contently and let her head rest on his shoulder and her eyes fall close as she listened to Belfag’s rumbling voice and Riordan’s breathing._  
  
_Life was good now._

* * *

  
Maryden wiped the blood from her face, breathing quite harshly through her teeth. Bending, she grabbed a piece of cloth from one of the bodies and wiped her sword with it before sheathing it.  
  
“Have we just-?” Aloth apprehensively murmured. As if he could not believe what had just happened.  
  
“We have,” Edér answered, voice quiet.  
  
“Come on,” Maryden commanded, motion for the party to follow her. The urge to flee the scene making her walk faster than she normally would. Itumaak barked and ran out ahead, ears perking and his once pristine white fur was here and there smudged with red. With blood.  
  
Images of how those who ravaged the shipwreck attacked them out of desperation, rather wishing to die than to talk about it, flashed in her mind. She had felt into one of their souls during the fight, a young lady who was not even an adult. Maryden had seen her life; how the girl was born in poverty, with no roof above her head. Spit upon and humiliated in the streets of Defiance Bay, struggling through each day, only to end so violently by her hands.  
  
Peregund looked at them hopefully as they approached, wringing her hands in barely contained nerves. “You’re back! Well, have you found anything?”  
  
“The looters are dead, the supplies and whatever is left are yours,” Maryden said, her voice monotone. The Orlan captain jumped from foot to foot, clearly grateful.  
  
“Thank you, thank you! Here, have this for your efforts,” the Orlan pressed a rather heavy purse in her palm, clearly filled with coins. Maryden did not want to take the blood money, but found herself doing it anyway. They needed the gold for repairs and she refused Tumbler’s money at Gilded Vale earlier. With resentment she tied the purse to her belt.  
  
After saying their goodbye’s, the party walked over the bridge of Defiance Bay, the clouds crying above them in the form of rain. The off-white walls and bright red roofs a stark contrast to all the green and earth-tones Dyrwood seemed to favour, almost royally, but inside the grotesque walls there was the complete opposite of it. Refugees littered the streets at first, the poor huddled together, hungry eyes regarding her and her party. Most of them victims still of Waidwen’s Legacy.  
  
Guards were tense, hands on the hilts of their swords almost constantly, even if they ascended a few stairs to a more richer part of the city. There were still beggars, but more in the quiet dark corners and mostly out of sight rather than within arm’s reach. It pulled at Maryden, the desperation and need coming from not only these people but the entire city itself. It was like a heavy weight slowly settled upon her the further they ventured inside Defiance Bay, strangely draining her stamina.  
  
Maryden had no idea that so many souls packed together would have this effect on her and with a trembling hand she wiped her wet hair out of her face for the lack of a cloak.  
  
“Hey, you okay?”  
  
Sagani looked up at her, her paint somehow not getting smudged or washed off by the rain. The party stopped and Maryden felt on the spot, thus she nodded.  
  
“It’s the city, right?” Aloth asked, sympathy lacing in his voice as his eyes were a mere twinkle underneath his dark hood.  
  
“I can deal with it,” Maryden defended herself, not willing to have that sympathy today. She know that she could, but she had to acclimatise to it. Trying to filter it. “Eventually,” she finished, not wanting to be hostile to those who just wanted to help her.  
  
“I know a place here where they don’t ask questions, come on.”  
  
How Aloth knew such a place was beyond her, but after crossing a few alleys and entering the Copperlane District they entered a small inn called the Goose and Fox. It was dark, small but almost devoid of patrons. Those that were there sat in the corners or near the hearth at the far end of the room. The innkeeper, an Aumaua with dark skin greeted them, twirling a tiny pewter cup in his enormous hands but did not drink from it. He smiled at them.  
  
“Here for a drink?”  
  
“Yes, and five rooms please,” Aloth began but was cut off by the man.  
  
“I have three left.”  
  
The elf blinked a few times and turned around, clearly pairing them. Finally he shrugged, taking his loss. “Okay, fine. Three it is.”  
  
After ordering their drinks and a hot meal the party sat down on a table at one of the corners of the inn. It was a round table, a few chairs and at the wall and corner a couch. Maryden sat down on the couch next to Edér and on her left Sagani. Her fox laid down at her feet. Durance sat smugly between Aloth and the dwarf. The few patrons that were in the inn often shot glances in there directions, more of curiosity rather than ill will. At least, Maryden hoped.  
  
“So that means we can share a bed, dwarf,” Durance drawled. Sagani waved her hand in front of her nose.  
  
“Whoo, you need to brush your teeth. Otherwise you can fell people with just a shout!”  
  
The party laughed at her waving off the priest, who shot a remark here and there, but did not seem gravely offended. He left before dinner, muttering about some whores that he needed to find and ventured back outside into the onslaught of rain. Though he might be filled with hormones, Maryden thought it was just a façade, testing out those who travelled with him.  
  
Sagani seemed a nice woman. Mother of five children of which two died early due to sickness, and married. At that fateful night at camp, she had told Maryden that she was to find a deceased village elder named Persoq. She wanted to find his soul, tell him about how the village faired and how important he was between the trade of Massuk and neighbouring villages. It was an old village tradition, searching the souls of the deceased, and now she was willing to travel along with Maryden so that she could in time find her elder.  
  
“So, where are _you_ from?” Sagani later asked, swallowing a big lump of meat before talking. “You listen to our tales, but-” the dwarf left the question hanging, her dark observing eyes taking in the Godlike, who could not _not_ answer it.  
  
“I was born in the Living Lands, a place far north of here.”  
  
“That’s where trolls live, right?” Aloth gasped. Maryden nodded, smiling a bit at his reaction. The meal and company helped her headache and the suffocating sensations she first experienced when entering Defiance Bay, it was now bearable.  
  
“Among others, yes.”  
  
“I heard you have werewolves, giant insects and people eating plants!” Sagani blabbered all of it out in a rapid pace. Maryden chuckled at her almost child-like enthusiasm.  
  
“Yes, yes and yes, though luckily I haven’t encountered the first. When you do it tends to be fatal.”  
  
“It’s mountainous right? With rich soil, a few settlements here and not but not a real power like Aedyr or Dyrwood. What is it like?” Edér asked genuinely interested.  
  
Maryden thought of it, instantly remembering her family and why she ran away, she shifted on her seat trying to still her heart that was beating furiously against her ribcage out of anxiety. “It’s like you said. The air is thinner than here, but the ground is more fertile. We have forests that seem like there is no end to them. It takes months of travelling before reaching the ocean. It can take weeks before reaching a neighbouring village. Some are nomads, but most communities stay in one place.”  
  
“Like yours?”  
  
His green eyes were kind, curious, eager to know more like Aloth and Sagani, but also slightly apprehensive. As if Edér felt it was a subject she did not often talk about. Maryden felt her heart hammer and flinched when a small wet nose pressed again her hand from below the table. Itumaak whined at her, she petted the fox who was slowly warming up to her. Edér was fond of him either, wanting to pet him so bad he often had to hold his hands to prevent himself from doing it. Yet the fox did not want him to. It would only take a matter of time.. Edér would say.  
  
“Maryden?”  
  
She blinked and glanced around the waiting gazes. “I.. yes, we remained on one place. It was a community of about 80 to a 100 people of mixed ages, but more elders than children,” she quickly replied, trying to stray away from the emotional questions. She did not want to be reminded of her family or Riordan, those chapters were closed.  
  
Edér searched her, observing, and instead of questioning further (though she could see them lingering in his gaze) he merely smiled warmly, comforting. “It sounds very calming, that type of life.”  
  
“It can be.”  
  
After dinner Maryden decided to retreat to her room, shared with Sagani who kept drinking downstairs along with Edér and Aloth, Durance had yet to return from his ‘endeavours’. Secretly Maryden had wanted a room by herself, not wanting to disturb Sagani’s rest with her own nightmares and restlessness. But she figured that no one wanted to share one with Durance, which was understandable. The concept of hygiene was still lost on the priest, no matter how much Aloth nagged him about it.  
  
‘ _Note to self; tomorrow a trip to the blacksmith and armourer,_ ’ she thought when pulling off her brigandine armour and hung it to dry near the small stove inside the room, still wet from the onslaught of rain before they arrived here. The armour was clearly damaged and almost over-used. She wanted to have it checked along with her greatsword so that she could rely on it again. The last fight at the shipwreck one of the looters managed to bruise her quite nastily with a pike, she did not want to tempt fate any further.  
  
Undressed to her smalls Maryden shivered and went to the washing basin in the corner that she had asked for. A real bath was a bit too expensive, much to her chagrin. But at least it was warm water now instead of freezing. She briefly thought about Caed Nua, and how it faired there.  
  
‘ _Perhaps finally a bath then,_ ’ she longingly wished.  
  
Drenching the cloth she cleaned herself thoroughly, enjoying the warmth but sharp contrast of the frisk air around her resulted in goose bumps. Lastly she washed her hair, bending over the basin with a small bare of soap. It took a while but it felt nice to have all the knots and tangles out of her wild red locks. Instantly she braided it, the fringe around her face combed back so that it would not bother her.  
  
She dressed in a somewhat clean tunic that was too large for her, making another mental note to visit the launderer in town. Her bed, one of the two in the room, was cosy, warmer than the one in Gilded Vale and she blew out the burning candle on the night stand, dousing herself in darkness aside from the light of the streetlamp just outside her window. Thick fat drops dripped down the glass, the wind howling around the building.  
  
Adjusting herself Maryden sighed, her mind feeling heavy as she tried to close her eyes and sleep. Listening to the rain for Gods knew how long as she felt herself slowly sink into a light slumber, breath evening out and heart slowing in a steady rhythm. It was trance like, but strangely peaceful where the whispers were just at the back of her conscious.  
  
There was tuck again at the back of her skull, this time gentle and cooing rather than forceful and slowly her mind bared itself to the outside world. More easily and a bit more controlled than ploughing straight in like the previous times while her body itself was asleep. Maryden picked up snippets of souls in the rooms around her and downstairs, some troubled, others young and naïve. A few dark and a handful joyful. She never grazed them for long, merely observed.  
  
Maryden was too late to react and wake up when her control slipped, images flashing before her eyes like a bad film. Crackly, bright and distorted at times, chaotic. She was amidst a small group, the exact number difficult to pin point since they were all faint blurs. The air was static with magic, her heart thundering against her ribcage and her breathing almost laboured when she felt panic rising up in her for an unknown reason.  
  
There was a low almost inaudible rumble ahead of her that pulled her gaze towards it. She could see light, a bright light surrounding a man amidst metal clad soldiers. The light was soothing, forgiving but yet made her feel threatened, scared. The low rumble intensified, the ground beneath her feet shaking along with it. The shades around her stepped back, hands raised out of fear and to protect themselves. They gasped and she felt her own breath hitch along with them as suddenly all of the air was sucked towards the radiating man, imploding.  
  
Then he and the militia around him were suddenly engulfed in bright red and orange; a violent blaze that overwhelmed the light he himself had been emanating. The peaceful sensation was instantly gone paving the way for terror and whilst the explosion had been blinding, it was dark and horrific at the same time.  
  
Maryden was thrown back by the blast wave and the silhouettes around her screamed before vaporizing. The ground was unforgiven as the remainder of her oxygen was pushed out of her lungs. She could not look away from the cloud that rose up in the tumultuous sky as chaos swirled around her.  
  
Then footsteps. A person walking towards her dressed in a tattered and burnt robe, holding a staff of which the reflection of the runes shining bright in his coal black eyes. Behind him the cloud formed briefly into a woman, equally as enflamed but not so much on the forefront of her focus than the man. The man suddenly closed in, reaching out to touch her-  
  
With a start Maryden shot awake, her breathing hard and sweating profusely, but before she could recover hands grasped her shoulders pressing her down on the mattress with force.  
  
Durance hovered above her, wet hair clinging to his scar ridden face that was close to her own. His eyes nearly bulging out of its sockets and the scent of alcohol was heavy on his breath. He seemed enraged, mental as his fingers dug into her skin through her tunic.  
  
“You see now, Watcher? You do, do you,” his voice contained barely constricted anger as he bruised her.  
  
He shook her once, harshly, before his hands travelled a bit more up; the tips resting on the base of her neck and the palms pressing down on her chest. It felt constricting, as if he wanted to strangle her so Maryden struggled, but the priest used his weight and probably some kind of spell for her strength was drained. She was exhausted.  
  
“You’ve witnessed it,” Durance whispered now, lowering himself a bit, nose almost brushing hers. He obscured the faint light coming from outside the window. His face barely visible in the darkness that was all-consuming but his eyes shimmered. A light burning in them. His final words made terror twist inside her guts, especially when the tips of his fingers pressed down on the base of her throat.  
  
“You finally saw the Godhammer.”  



	9. Forged by Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love this chapter. I hope you do too!
> 
> Remember: English is not my mother-language so grammar mistakes may occur!

Maryden sat in the common room of the Goose and Fox, journal on her lap and quill in hand, but no word was written yet. Her mind was too absorbed of what had happened that night. Her free hand went up to touch the base of her throat, quickly pulling away when it was still sensitive but luckily not bruised. She still felt his fingers on her skin.  
  
Durance had left before Sagani had come in the room, clearly intoxicated and instantly falling asleep when she had hit the covers of her bed. Maryden envied her then, not able to venture into the realm of dreams again herself. She and the priest hadn’t said a word about it this morning, Durance acting normally towards her like nothing happened but Maryden could not help but to feel wary in his presence. Her trust in him damaged.  
  
Movement in her peripheral vision pulled Maryden out of her musing about the early morning and she looked up, meeting green. Edér sat down opposite of her, placing down a tankard in front of her of which she softly thanked him about.  
  
“Too much to write down?” He started with a small smile, one that Maryden returned although a bit strained.  
  
“Something like that.. too much on my mind.”  
  
“Hey, you don’t have-” he began, his gloved hands fidgeting with his own tankard one of the few signs of his nervousness.  
  
“Edér, I promised that I would go with you to the archives,” Maryden said strongly after swallowing some of the contents down of her own drink, which tasted a bit like some sort of wine. “And I keep my promises to my friends,” she finished with a soft voice, meeting his green gaze with her own. He was definitely nervous.  
  
The fighter sighed and leaned back in his wooden chair, which groaned a bit underneath the weight of his armour and body. “Okay, okay,” he surrendered himself.  
  
For a moment they both remained silent. He probably in thought and Maryden finally scribbling something in her journal. Something very short about the dream, just a few key words, but mostly what to do the next following days. Sagani was still in bed, hungover, whilst Aloth was off to the market and the launderer.  
  
Durance was somewhere in the city. Maryden had no idea where or what he was doing, he promised surveillance and trying to investigate where to find the Leaden Key and how to get there, but honestly she let him do his own thing. She had no control over him anyway and deep down that frightened her though she would never admit it too anyone, especially to herself.  
  
With care she closed her journal when the ink dried and glanced over to Edér, who was fumbling with his pipe now. Not lighting it but constantly grinding the herbs in it. She decided to no longer torture him and stood up, putting her stuff in her backpack.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
It was clouded outside, the sky filled with rain but none of that fell. Here and there were puddles which most people avoided but cued the children play in it. The sight of little feet stomping in the water so mundane it made Maryden smile. Their walk to the First Fires district was quiet, Edér’s heavy foot falls next to her own, sometimes brushing shoulders.  
  
They were both cladded in armour, weapons on the back, not because it wasn’t safe in Defiance Bay, but Maryden figured a quick trip to blacksmith after this all was done was efficient. But there was also the reason that she didn’t trust the archivist, not how Edér had described him to her and that he was quite bitter towards Eothasians.  
  
She did not want to come unprepared if a fight should break out since the hate of Eothas’ followers apparently ran deep. Maryden hadn’t told Edér, but this whole hate towards those who followed another God felt unjust and _wrong_.  
  
‘ _But isn’t this the same with the Leaden Key and Woedica?_ ’ the dark voice mused inside her, quelling her feelings. _‘Because you don’t understand something, you decide to hate it and that it should be eradicated? Ignorance is not always bliss.’_  
  
“We’re here,” Edér sighed. They stood in front of a large staircase, a pair of heavy wooden doors on top of it with large golden inscriptions. The building itself was also enormous, very typical.  
  
“We can do this,” Maryden whispered and without thinking grabbed his gloved hand with her own. Though thick layers of leather separated them, she still squeezed tightly and reassuringly. It felt good to feel him squeeze back and nod firmly. He was ready.  
  
Inside was just as grand as outside. bookcases reaching up to the ceiling, floor made of white marble and everything decorated in red velvet and gold. It felt like heresy walking here with their muddy boots and worn out physiques. A woman walked towards them, dressed in the same red of the drapes and carpet. Her wrinkled face taut in politeness but Maryden could see the look of disdain crossing in her eyes when she sized them up.  
  
“Can I help you?” She inquired with a strained voice. As if she had something better to do than to indulge them. Maryden hated that kind of up-stuck people, but let that slide with a polite smile of her own.  
  
“Yes, we wish to speak the Records Keeper.”  
  
The woman arched an overly plucked eyebrow that was as grey as her hair that was pulled tight in a bun on the back of her head. Her wrinkly lips purged, looking more like another end of the human body rather than lips. Maryden straightened, quite taller than the woman and met her scornful gaze with her own, not budging nor telling the reason that the woman was obviously waiting for. Edér just stood there between them, weight shifting between his feet as this battle of wills was being fought in front of him.  
  
Finally the woman broke the stare-off, flicking Edér an eyeful, and sighed, clearly irritated. “I will return shortly, please wait here.” She then turned around and trotted off, out of sight. Her heels clicking annoyingly on the marble.  
  
“What just happened?” Edér whispered to her underneath his breath, head inclined towards her, eyeing the other archivists who shot them curious glances from a distance before resuming to their work.  
  
Maryden gave him a small smile and leaned a bit closer so that the others could not overhear them. “Just something between two women.” She knew wasn’t very illuminating, but Edér mumbled an ‘Ah’ and straightened himself again, dropping the matter. He was just a bit taller than her, not quite able to look on the top of her head to give an inclination.  
  
The clicking of heels attracted their attention as the taut woman returned. “The Keeper will see you now, follow me.” At those words she made a small pivot on the spot and walked back from where she came. Edér and Maryden followed her, their boots heavy compared to the woman’s heels. Maryden shot a look over her shoulder, seeing they left footprints. She smiled to herself, already imagining the woman fussing.  
  
They went into a hallway, passing multiple people, some dressed in white but most of them also in red. Their venture was stopped short in front of a heavy looking door, the woman knocked a few times curtly and opened the door, stepping inside.  
  
“Keeper, your visitors are here,” she announced. An old man that stood behind an expensive looking desk nodded.  
  
“Thank you,” he said with a strong voice. “You can leave Sidly.” The woman curtsied, shot Maryden a last scornful look as she passed and left the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
They approached the desk, stopping in front of it. The old man was slightly hunched, but his grey eyes were still youthful and alert despite his aged body. He donned a white robe, making his pepper coloured hair almost filthy-looking. He regarded them in cool manner, seemingly unprejudiced unlike this Sidly. “So what can I do for you?” He asked.  
  
Edér and Maryden shared a small look. The former looking a bit clueless of what he should ask, so Maryden decided that she took the plunge into the deep.  
  
“We wish to see the militia records of the Saints War, if that is possible Keeper. We’re trying to find out what happened to someone.”  
  
The man cleared his throat and gave her a doubtful look, Maryden wasn’t sure if it was either curious or sympathetic. “We’ve had a number of such inquiries about such information. I’m afraid we’ve had to bar access to those records from the public.”  
  
“Why is that?” Edér asked, voice genuine. Attracting the Keeper’s attention.  
  
“Seems there are still quite a lot of Dyrwoodans who bear ill toward Raedcerans. It would be irresponsible to surrender their names to anyone- many came to settle here as refugees.” In other words, some of the folk in Dyrwood still wanted to do them harm.  
  
“Perhaps if you were more established in Defiance Bay, things would be different,” the man said slowly but not hesitant. “But I have no reason to suspect you to be any different from the others.”  
  
Maryden did not expect that. “But we’ve come a long way-” she began, interrupted by the Keeper.  
  
“So have many others.”  
  
Edér now stepped forward, a pleading look on his face. “Look, I just want to know what happened to my brother. I don’t even know what side he fought for or what happened to him.”  
  
The Keeper looked at him, now clearly sympathetic but still shook his head and wanted to turn away from them. “I still can’t help you, perhaps it’s best if you leave.”  
  
In a few quick steps Maryden was around the desk and in front of the man, not in a threatening manner, but in a way that he could not turn away and had to face her. She wanted to make him listen so she stared into his grey eyes with her amber ones and spoke with a soft voice that wasn’t pleading, but clear.  
  
“Keeper, I understand your reservations. You don’t want to bring harm to those written in the records who are still alive, you want to protect them and that is noble of you,” she appealed to him. Not trying to charm him, but stating a fact because it _was_ noble of him. Her eyes flicked to Edér for a moment, before settling again on the old man in front of her.  
  
“But bear in mind there are still those who want to do good. Who want to lay those to rest who died, or put down their own demons that they can move on. You can make friends, but family remains with you forever even in death. Isn’t it just for them to know what happened? He deserves it.” She meant not only Woden, who deserved being remembered, but also Edér. The living man deserved the rest he longed for. The questions answered that haven’t been for over 10 years. For everything he has done for her, and because he is the way he is.. she wished to grand him that and more.  
  
The Keeper looked at her, longer than a few heart beats. She could see his eyes flick to and fro from hers, searching. Finally she looked away, thinking he had not budged but then the man spoke. His voice clear.  
  
“One moment.”  
  
At that he walked away, closing the door of his office behind him. Maryden and Edér shared a glance, both of them now nervous. She walked towards him, squeezing his mail-clad upper arm trying to reassure him and secretly herself.  
  
“It’s up to the Gods now,” she whispered oddly brittle. Edér said nothing, but nodded. Swallowing thickly.  
  
Time seem creep by in a snail’s pace that was maddening. Maryden looked out the window, hands wringing, lost in thoughts as she watched the people scatter and bustle about on the square down below. Some hiding from the rain, others not caring for it. Edér had resorted to pacing around.  
  
Both of their thoughts were pulled back when the door opened and closed again, revealing the Keeper with a thick book in his arms that weighed almost a ton by the look of his red face. He dropped it on his desk, the lamp on it tinkling and wood giving a groan in protest.  
  
“This is what I found. The rosters are in the front, the inventories of the dead are in the back. Please, only use it for what you are looking for. Alright?” Edér quickly nodded, stammering a ‘yes’. “Please give it back to Sidly when you leave, I will leave you alone for now.” With that the man turned and left, not even giving them a chance to say thank you.  
  
Maryden and Edér stood in front of it, she side-glanced at him, not being able to tell what he was thinking. “This is it,” she murmured, now examining the book. It was dressed in thick brown leather, on the front the writing was golden and curly. ‘ _The Saint’s War: an inventory’_ it simply read.  
  
Edér pulled off his gloves, revealing his large calloused hands and opened the book carefully with trembling fingers, the back of it groaning to its lack of use. Minutes passed as his green eyes passed page after page, his fingers gliding past each of the names.  
  
‘ _What if he isn’t in there?_ ’  
  
Maryden fearfully thought and looked at the fighter, how intently he was reading the pages with mouth pulled tight in anxiety. The wrinkles on his forehead and between his brows deepening. She tried not to imagine his reaction, if that were the case, but her heart was hammering at the possibility and she grew more nervous herself the more they reached the end of the book.  
  
Finally his fingers stopped below one name and a breath that he had been holding was exhaled, in defeat or relief Maryden could not tell, but she saw the recognition in his eyes. She glanced at the page.  
  
“Woden Teylecg,” Edér whispered. “Died 18 Majirvino, 2808. Third battle of the Clîaban Rilag,” he read. Cursing the Glanfathan names underneath his breath. Then he stopped, stammering. “Raedceras?” He then looked up to her, eyes filled with disbelief and question.  
  
“Why did he fight for Raedceras?”  
“I don’t know, maybe he had a good reason?” Maryden said, but clearly it did not dawn on Edér, who was staring at the page again.  
  
“We- we should go there. Clee-uh, the name I just said. I got to see what he saw,” the fighter announced with a hint of desperation in his voice. “I need to make sense of all this.” Slowly Edér closed the book, fingers not trembling any longer.  
  
“Who knows, maybe his spirit will even be there and you can have one of your weird talks with him,” he looked at her again. “Worth trying right?” There was something akin to hope in his green eyes, one that Maryden could not extinguish so she nodded, giving him a small smile.  
  
“We’ll try.”

* * *

  
_Maryden was panting, sweat dripping down her face and neck along with dirt and blood that was partially her own. Her lungs were burning and her heart hammered in her chest in a painful matter, racking through her exhausted body. But she had to, had to continue.  
  
Her sword felt three times its normal weight as she lifted it and weakly swung at a man coming from her, making him stammer back and trip. She used her momentum to bury the blade in his head, killing him instantly. Panic flooded her veins as she eyes scanned the battlefield, looking for someone but not seeing that familiar mob of ruffled grey hair that was slowly becoming whiter.  
  
Finally she spotted him and ran, tripping over the bodies but not quite falling. She did not care if they were foe or ally, she needed to get to _ him _.  
  
“Riordan!” She gasped and fell on her knees, sword cluttering on the ground next to her, forgotten. She touched him, shook him, willing him to keep his eyes open. His armour was torn, stomach slashed open and his guts spilling out. She pulled off her gloves, not caring where she threw them.  
  
“M-maryden,” Riordan moaned, voice weaker than she had ever heard before and it did not suit him. “Help me.” A weak, bloodied hand reached her. She grasped it firmly in assurance and placed it back on his chest.  
  
“Stay with me, I’m going to patch you up. Stay with me!” Her voice was shaking like her body. Riordan gasped, lips moving but only a groan filled with pain rolled over them instead of words. He was paler than she had ever seen.  
  
“Riordan, keep your eyes open. Damn it! You’re going to make it!” She growled and touched his intestines. It was slimy, quivering and warm, but as she pushed it back inside him she found that he was bleeding more profusely than first met the eye. The aorta artery going towards his legs had ruptured just above the pelvis.  
  
“Maryden.”  
  
A much larger and aged hand touched her own, equally bloodied but almost translucent in colour beneath all that nauseating red. The gesture stilled her frantic pushing and pulling. He knew, and so did she.  
  
Maryden closed her eyes, feeling herself break in front of the man who was her mentor, her friend. The man who saved her and taught her everything she knew. The man who was actually her _ father _, not by blood but by bond. That same man was now dying in her arms and they both knew it.  
  
A hand cupped her cheek, now cold that was once warm and a thick thumb wiped away the tears falling from her eyes, but smudging the dirt and grime on her face in the meantime. Maryden opened her eyes to meet the fading dark brown irises that could flare so hot whenever he was angry, or grew soft in emotion when she would delight him or make him proud. Now they were growing blank, but there was still a shimmer of love.  
  
“Remember what I taught you,” he groaned and heaved. Blood coated his teeth and lips.  
  
“_ _Block with both your arms holding the weapon and not hold it with one,” Maryden murmured, smiling sad at the memory. “Because the greatsword is heavy and a blow could tip you off balance because of the weight.”  
  
“Good girl-” Riordan tried to laugh, but a grimace of pain put an end to it. His hand from her cheek and clutched his stomach, his breath was heavy. The clutter of armour made Maryden look up, a handful of the remaining soldiers approached her warily. Their entire mercenary group was decimated. It would only be a matter of time before reinforcements would round the corner.  
  
“Maryden, you need to leave me. They are coming for you.”  
  
“I’m not leaving you,” she growled, voice thick with emotion. “They will defile you-”  
  
“You’re _**not** _dying with me,” Riordan barked at her. Instantly coughing and groaning afterwards due to his outbreak. “You are going to live a full life, without regrets. Do you understand?” He said in his commanding-voice, or at least tried to. “You are going to fight and_ live _.” He then looked her dead in the eyes. “For me.”_  
  
_Maryden stared at him, meanwhile keeping aware of the soldiers approaching them with raised weapons. She nodded, bending down to press a kiss against his forehead, her hand finding and grasping his own. “For you,” she whispered against his skin that was cold with trembling lips and a wavering voice. “I love you.”_  
  
_Riordan’s dark brown eyes were empty and void of life when Maryden finally stood. Her bloodied hands clutching the hilt of her greatsword tightly as emotions raged through her like a storm that was uncontrolled. She was burning, her skin having cracked like burnt wood and her hair was like wildfire. She felt stronger than before, the hottest of furnaces heating her insides. Vaporizing her initial fatigue and enkindling a new type of strength._  
  
_Gods, please show kindness to those who fell victims to this wrath that is battle-forged._  



	10. No Light without Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been a long while.. sorry about that.

The door in front of her was made of a dark metal, jagged and fearsome especially in the flickering light of the torches that barely illuminated the cavern. Chanting could be heard from the other side, signalling the acolytes were already beginning with their rituals.  
  
“Are you ready, compadre?” The Avian God-like’s accent was thick, but not clouding her words.  
  
Maryden shot a glance to Pallegina, the woman from the Vailia Republic who towered above all of them. Her bright yellow bird-like eyes were unnerving a bit at first, but now they held strength that Maryden felt like she lacked. She was nervous, her heart thundering inside her chest and her blood soaring in her ears. It was not like she had went into a lion’s den before, but now Maryden would be doing it alone. Too many of them and the acolytes would probably get suspicious or so they figured.   
  
‘ _Can I do this?_ ’ Maryden asked herself when she examined the heavy looking door in front of her again. She would be all alone in there, no telling of what could happen in the sight of a Goddess.   
  
“Maryden, if anyone can do it it’s you. If something happens we’re here just behind this door, alright?” Aloth was sincere, but even though he tried to be brave for her she could see the worry etched between his fine eyebrows. Sagani and Durance just regarded her quietly, the dwarf more tense than the priest. Edér was quiet too, but his eyes betrayed his feelings of dread. No one liked this idea, but it was the only way.  
  
“I can do this,” Maryden sighed and took a deep breath to summon up her courage that was threatening to fail her. What it exactly was she could not place, but this place just felt all kinds of _wrong._ She felt unstable here, her head swimming and her body more worn down that normal, though neither of her companions seemed to suffer that fate. __  
  
Maryden put the mask over her head, making sure all was covered. Now she truly looked like one of Woedica’s worshippers with the black cloak and all. “Wish me luck,” she murmured and pushed the door open, it went inward before she chickened out. She scooted past it and tried to close it quietly, to no avail because the chanting instantly stopped the moment she set foot over the room’s threshold.  
  
A woman stood in the middle of a circle of initiates, donning the same robe and mask as the rest but she oozed something more. A power of some sort that was either revelling and intimidating. She pressed a hand to an initiates forehead for just a moment, before retreating it back to her side. The stranger then returned to his place in the circle of others looking exactly alike.   
  
“You are late, attendant.”  
  
Her voice was soft, but filled with a rage that instilled fear and quelled even the crackling noises of the fire from the torches barely lighting the room.   
  
“I’ve been waiting for your reports, quickly now,” she said and beckoned to Maryden. Who felt her feet move without her control and stop in front of the shrouded figure, the thought of talking back to the woman completely absent. The palm pressed against her forehead was warm even through her mask. There was a strange tingle in her head, almost like another presence invaded her.  
  
“State your name and purpose.”   
  
The woman’s voice was so clear, but low and soft at the same time Maryden was not sure whether she was speaking aloud or inside her head. It was also beckoning, making her mind come eerily at ease, but she had to stay sharp. Had to remember the reversing.   
  
“My name belongs to the Gods and my hand to their service,” Maryden droned automatically. Voice monotone as she tried to shield her mind from prying eyes.  
  
“What company do you seek?”  
  
“I seek the company of shadows, that our labours remain secret.”   
  
The presence in her head was now clearly evident. It was as if someone looked over your shoulder, but now inside your mind. It asked her of her purpose and how they would know it. “You shall know it by the confession of my tongue, the deeds of my hand, and the oath on my soul,” Maryden answered.

“And how is it guarded?” The woman’s breath could be felt through the slits of Maryden’s mask. It was warm but smelled of nothing. Maryden opened her eyes that she had unknowingly shut.  
  
“By the Leaden key,” was the answer that she gave the shrouded woman, knowing it was the right one.   
  
In an instant visions filled her mind. She saw a building with trellises and tiles and located on a pristine boulevard. The wealthy and learned strolled in and out, trading knowledge and coin. Yet it also houses misery and madness. Somewhere within its rotten core sits a man with matted hair, cheeks gaunt but his eyes alert. He watches and waits, a prisoner by his own choice. He waited still in the Sanatorium. The image changed to a tower, surrounded by vacant streets covered in a strange thick fog. Savage shapes prowling inside it. On top of the ancient tower was a man, hunching over some kind of mechanism. He wasn’t quite visible but there was something unnatural and foreboding about him. Then the scenery changed again, the name ‘Dyrford’ popping in Maryden’s head. Several figures huddled together, shrouded in cloaks and hoods. An image of a ruin loomed in her mind, two skeletal effigies flanking a cleft in a mountainside. They had arrived.  
  
Maryden opened her eyes again, a feverish feeling washing over her as she stared into the dark slits of the eyes of the mask before her. The rest of the figures were chanting again, the sound of them bleeding into her world of perception. The edge of her vision trembled, strange apparitions flickering in and out of her sight. The woman instantly retracted her hand, as if burned and the heavy presence in her mind was quickly followed by a void that was encumbering.  
  
“You-” the shrouded woman breathed in rage.  
  
Maryden had no idea what she had seen in her head before she had pulled her hand back, but there was no time to think because suddenly the acolytes had stopped chanting again and were now attacking her. Unsheathing her sword that she had hidden beneath her robes Maryden cut down the first two that came charging at her. Jumping back the blade of a knife cut the robes she wore and scratched the thin leather armour beneath it, her own brigandine too heavy and too obvious forcing Maryden to resort to lesser armour.  
  
Using the robes as a distraction, she half pulled half tore them off and tossed it to a handful coming at her before turning to block another knife. She pushed her attacker away, muscles burning when she cut off his hands and then his head, blood spurting and coating her forearms. Her momentum was her ally, blocking another but was forced to step back when a different serrated blade swiped at her abdomen nicking at the armour and scratching her skin beneath it. Maryden winced in pain. There were a lot of them, threatening to surround her were it not for her pivoted swings.   
  
Her eyes flicked to the door that was still closed, panic threatening to rear its head. ‘ _Where are they?_ ’   
  
A gasp of surprise left her when a sharp white hot pain shot up from her right arm. Blindly she swung, a scream meeting the end of her blade. Warm blood gushed out of a large wound from her arm, trickling down to her hands of which the right one was hurting a lot. Strength draining out of it as the muscles were cut through. She was too late to fully dodge another slash at her, the tip of a blade cutting shallowly through the skin of her cheek.  
  
They were upon her.   
  
Deep inside Maryden knew it; that this was a lost battle. She was outnumbered, wounded and in a place that mentally and physically crippled her by its sheer divine weight with no way of getting help.  
  
‘ _I’m going to die here._ ’   
  
Something clicked inside of her at this realization. Coals were added to the fire inside of her, causing it to burn hotter for a second time in her life as Death was staring right at her, waiting to claim her. A magical charge filled the air, the steel of the doors groaning and there was a shout in the distance, but Maryden did not hear them anymore over the pounding of own her heart in her ears.  
  
The initiates that were surrounding her felt the wrath of her blade as she _burned_ , illuminating the circular room. Fatigue, wounds and pain forgotten for that single moment as she raged on like a non-stop battering ram. Fire was all she could see and all that she was and it poured out of her in waves and waves, the blade of her great sword heating along with her till the point it glowed a faint red.  
  
Maryden instinctively paused her rampage when her surroundings resembled a slaughtering house around her and no one came at her again. The fire within her died as quickly as it had come, retreating back from whence it came and her own laboured breath echoed in the now silent room. She was shaking, covered in sweat and blood and other things that were to horrid to mention.   
  
“Holy shit,” Sagani’s voice whispered, breaking the spell that held the rest of her companions entranced at the sight before them.  
  
Maryden groaned, her greatsword dropping out of her trembling hands with the pain in her right arm now excruciating. She followed it, falling on her knees and only just prevented her body from collapsing into the warm blood and body parts by supporting on her left arm. Leaning forward, her now crimson gloved hand clutched on a tight fist in the gore.   
  
Despite the fire having died inside of her, she still felt _hot_. The etches of her vision still trembling and whispers loud in her ears. The muscles in her supporting arm shook of strain.  
  
Her name was yelled and footsteps hurried towards her. In an instant someone touched her. Hands large and firm on her shoulders lifting her upper body so that she leaned against him, chin on a strong shoulder to keep her from colliding with the ground. Another from a different owner was pressed against her forehead, cool and filled with the trickle of magic but nothing happened. Maryden closed her eyes. She was so tired.  
  
“She’s burning up,” Aloth’s voice announced, sounding muffled in the haze of her head. He was a blur of colours in front of her.  
  
“I- I,” she tried to talk but her voice was gibberish, tongue not working along. Her mind was also blank.  
  
“And she is wounded,” the thick accented voice of Pallegina stated. Something was ripped and tied tightly around her right upper arm. “We need to get her somewhere safe. Edér can you carry her?” The strong person holding her moved.  
  
“Stay with me, Maryden,” a deep familiar voice whispered in her ears. She felt herself getting lifted over a pair of shoulders and grimaced when pain pierced through her in that motion. It was an very odd feeling; hanging over a person’s shoulders with arms locking around in the crevice of her knee and her elbow to prevent her from falling and keeping balanced. Sickening, disoriented but still in some way safe and secure.  
  
How long she dangled there was unknown for unconsciousness claimed her.

* * *

  
_Odema examined her, from head to toe and even her greatsword. Not with feigned interest, but genuine curiosity. He side-glanced to the man standing next to him and crossed his arms over his broad chest that was more fat than muscle._  
  
“What do you think, Heodan?”  
  
Something inside of her stirred in irritation. Was she seriously getting judged by the merchant of the caravan? Stilling her frustrations Maryden took a breath and relaxed her posture somewhat, but not quite, as dark brown eyes investigated her. Looking her once over once more.  
  
“You say you have fighting experience?” The merchant named Heodan asked.  
  
Maryden nodded, firmly. “Yes, I worked with a merc group for over six years. I’m holding a weapon more than twelve.”  
  
Heodan rubbed his chin in thought, his hands dirty but Maryden figured she looked worse for wear with her messed up hair pulled roughly back, face blotchy and dark circles underneath her eyes. The blood stained on her blade. She hadn’t got the time to clean it.  
  
“Why did you leave the group?”  
  
“It no longer was what I sought. I grew tired of death all around me and the one causing it for gold. I would rather now protect others rather to go actively hunt them.”   
  
That was partially a lie. Ever since they had been massacred almost a year ago Maryden had been fending for herself barely coming around. One day the idea popped in her head that she needed to get out of the Living Lands, a revelation. So there she went and as fate had it here word of Odema’s caravan reached her ears. Since bounty hunting had been part of her mercenary life, finding people didn’t prove to be that hard. Now she stood in front of the man himself and his apparent friend Heodan the merchant of the group.  
  
Heodan turned to Odema, a man way older than he himself, with long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail and wrinkles creasing his round face. The leader of the caravan stepped forward, a smile on his lips but a warning in his dark emerald eyes.  
  
“We could use another sword, especially yours. Though there are also civilians travelling with us, I trust it that you-?” He let the question dangle in the air between them.  
  
“I will never hurt anyone, if that is what you are implying. At least not intentionally,” Maryden began but then sighed, exhausted. “I’m done with that part of my life.”   
  
For a moment it was silent, Odema’s eyes examining hers and could only see truth. He then held out a thick fleshy hand that Maryden took, briefly surprised by its roughness. She then guessed that there was a reason that Odema felt so familiar, he had seen the same things as she did. He grew tired of death too.  
  
“I welcome you aboard, Maryden Treshyr.”  
  
Maryden smiled then, genuinely, for the first time in a long while as a burden almost literally fell off her shoulders. Finally she could rest and live a peaceful life.

* * *

  
Something cold and wet was pressed on her forehead. Drops trickling down her temples and into her hair. It was removed and dragged across the entirety of her face, then down to her neck and shoulders before it disappeared. The sound of something being dipped in water several times, rinsed out with droplets hitting water, and there it was again. Repeating the same motion a few times before going to her left arm.   
  
Her appendage was lifted, carried by hands that were warm, calloused but tender. The cold, wet cloth dragged slowly across her skin, moistening it and cleaning it, but the sharp contrast caused the hairs to stand on end. It was ignored as the cloth soothed her knuckles, each fingers getting a separated treatment before her arm was gently turned, palm open with her elbow supported. The cloth then skirted across the skin of her forearm all the way to her palm, warm fingers following its trail tenderly before turning her arm back and placing her now clean palm on the covers.  
   
There was movement, heavy boots on a groaning wooden floor and scraping of a stool. The footsteps went to her feet, around her to her right side. Like her left her right was also lifted, more careful than the other and briefly Maryden wondered why until pain jolted right through her. It originated from her arm and was a stinging that made her grimace and forcing the rest of her conscious-self bubble up to the forefront.  
  
“Hey, ssh-” a feminine voice hushed. A warm palm pressing against had forehead soothingly. Maryden cracked open her eyelids that felt like they each weighed a ton and a mob of dark hair bled into her vision, the blur clearing up fairly quickly to reveal a tanned face with soft brown eyes.   
  
“Sagani?” Her mouth was parched.  
  
The dwarf nodded, a small smile on her lips at her recognition. She then turned and grabbed something from behind her, a cup, and presented it to her lips slightly tilting it. “Take it easy,” Sagani gently warned as Maryden let the water rush in her mouth, taking a few gulps. The dwarf then placed it on the night stand and her hands cupped her arm again, tenderly like a mother would hold her child’s and continued cleaning.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Sagani asked, voice as soft as her hands but with observing eyes taking in every detail.  
  
Maryden glanced around, she was in her room in the Goose and Fox. Dressed in her linen shirt and pants she always wore underneath her armour. The clothes were dirty, stained with dirt and blood especially at her right arm where the fabric was torn. Then her eyes casted upward to the ceiling, closing just a moment as she breathed.  
  
“Warm, tired.” were the words that left her.  
  
‘ _I’m so tired of this._ ’   
  
“You’re sporting a small fever now,” Sagani explained, dragging the wet cloth very gently on the skin just above the place where it hurt. “Significantly better than yesterday thanks to Aloth and Durance.”  
  
Maryden opened her eyes again to look at Sagani cleaning her right arm. Though the wound was closed it still looked hideous and was still very tender to touch. Her arm was covered in dried up red that was also beginning to flake, her blood. Slowly her skin started to appear, albeit bruised from beneath all that red thanks to the motherly dwarf. Maryden said nothing and neither did Sagani as she continued. Attending to each finger separately like she did with her left arm. When Sagani rinsed the cloth the water in the bowl next to her turned a murky brown.  
  
“How is everyone?” Maryden’s voice sounded meek in her own ears.  
  
“Fine considering the circumstances,” Sagani explained and placed her arm back down on the covers. She draped the cloth around the edge of the bowl and laid it down on the ground. Her brown eyes then met Maryden’s, a small smile on the woman’s lips that tried to lighten up the worried look. “You gave us quite a scare.”  
  
Maryden smiled back, albeit half-hearted and tore her eyes back on the ceiling. “I never meant to do that.. I only did it once-” she stopped. Painful memories of Riordan’s death that threatened to bubble up were shoved down in the back of her mind when a hand touched hers.  
  
“You aren’t obligated to tell me something you don’t want to,” Sagani reassured her, the dwarf clearly picking up her distress. “Especially if you don’t know it yet.”  
  
She searched the dwarf’s eyes, but couldn’t spot any type of expectation or curiosity in them. Sagani meant it; if Maryden wasn’t ready to tell her, Sagani wouldn’t press it or let it affect their friendship. Maryden smiled at the realization of it and Sagani’s sincerity.  
  
After changing in a fresh shirt and breeches, which still quite tedious and painful even with Sagani’s help, the dwarf jumped from her stool. “Now, try to get some sleep. I’ll soon get Aloth to take a final look at your arm.” Sagani shot her a final smile before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
Maryden sank back in the pillows of her bed, her eyelids still heavy. The whispers drove out the silence of the room. Outside the wind was howling, beating against the building along with the thunder of rain.   
  
_‘What company do you seek?’_  
  
‘She’s burning up!’  
  
‘You finally saw the God’s Hammer!’  
  
‘Welcome aboard, Maryden Threshyr.’  
  
‘Remember what I taught you.’  
  
‘It’s up to the Gods now.’  
  
Plagued by ghosts of the past Maryden pressed her left hand against her temples. Trying to force them away, gritting her teeth. A silent deafening scream inside of her, but not rolling over her lips.  
  
Insanity.


	11. Catching up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler. Sorry XD

“Hit it!”  
  
Maryden did, teeth clenched as she punched with all of her might into the cushioned bracers Pallegina held in front of her, one around each forearm for her to hit. Her left arm responded properly, her right was still weakened and sore to the point of sheer pain. After throwing a few punches Maryden exhaled loudly, growing tired.  
  
“Again!” The Avian God-like yelled when she was about to slack. Maryden kept up her pace until the muscles were burning. She needed to practice, to train her muscles. Keeping up her game. Maryden imaged the undead she had fought just two days prior and how difficult it had been there and at the Sanatorium. She needed to step up her game and started to put more strength behind her power.

* * *

  
_“Now move it.”_  
  
Maryden flexed her right arm, twisting and turning it to its maximum radius. Her muscles responded like they should be,  but something in her arm felt off. The area of the wound was senseless to the feeling of touch, warmth or cold.  
  
It had only been a few days, and now when her fever was gone, Aloth had her perform under his and Durance’s supervision. Both wizard and priest examining the fruition of their hard labour on her arm which had healed quite fast due to their cooperation and their magical abilities. The rest of her companions watched from the side lines.  
  
“How does it feel?” Aloth asked and stepped closer, pressing down at some spots of skin that Maryden did not feel aside from the pressure.  
  
“Weird,” she murmured, unable to explain the sensation. The tips of her fingers tingled when the Elf pressed down on a nerve. Then Aloth grabbed her hand, as if he were to greet her.  
  
“Can you squeeze?”  
  
Maryden did, to the best of her ability but it felt like she was squeezing lead. Strength drained from her right arm rapidly, muscles aching quickly and soon she was forced to release Aloth who just flinched a bit at her effort.  
  
“Now the other for comparison and please don’t break it,” he quickly explained. Maryden and Aloth grabbed each other’s left hands and she gave it a quick, tight squeeze. Instantly the Elf flinched and rubbed the appendage when she let go.    
  
“It seems there is still some muscles damage,” Durance observed and walked closer. Maryden ignored the tension growing in her gut and the hammering of her heart due to his proximity. His firm grip on her neck still not forgotten. “Your body should recover some of it over time, but it’s important to keep training the muscles.”  
  
“Some of it?” Sagani inquired.  
  
“Due to the excessive trauma, it is unlikely Maryden can use her arm like before it happened,” Pallegina explained to the dwarf who mouthed an ‘O’ in understanding.  
  
“But I can still fight? Hold my greatsword?”  
  
Aloth eyed the fire God-like in comprehensive curiosity, as if he willed himself to belief. “Probably, though you need to practice. A lot.”

* * *

  
“Harder!” Pallegina yelled at her. Maryden obeyed. A familiar but unwelcome heat growing inside of her like coals being thrown in a furnace. Her blood was rushing in her ears.  
  
“That’s enough for today,” Pallegina suddenly announced panting and relaxed, lowering her arms. Maryden instantly took a step back and followed her example by loosening her muscles with a roll of her shoulders and exhaling. The Vailian woman removed the cushioned bracers, the skin beneath it bruised.  
  
“You okay? You wanted me to go hard but I didn’t intend this.” Maryden asked, alarmed but Pallegina just smiled and waved away her worries.  
  
“It will heal, though you still have some work to do you really have a good punch. Made me work for it. Tomorrow again? If the Gods will it?”    
  
Maryden nodded wordlessly. Pallegina patted her on the back and headed towards her tent at camp that was just within a stone’s throw away. Maryden took her water skin from her belt and gulped down large loads of water that was almost too cold before wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She was soaked with it and hot to the touch for more reasons than one. The fire inside her slowly died, the remaining tendrils of it hovering beneath her skin.  
  
Since it had happened with that ceremony she felt it rearing its head on more occasion than one. Maryden wasn’t sure if she liked it. This _thing_ felt out of control like a hurricane. Raging and violent, unable to be contained, but it was also strangely addictive: the adrenaline kick and the rush of strength that came with it.  
  
Deciding she needed to cool down (literally) Maryden grabbed a clean shirt and ventured towards a nearby stream just down the path and out of view from camp. There she kneeled down at the river’s bank, the pebbles below her knees moving by her weight. She took off her filthy sweat-drenched linen shirt and tossed it aside in the grass before readjusting the bun on her head that contained her unruly red locks.  
  
The water was freezing, but welcome, on the heated skin of her bare neck. Carefully not to wet her breast band that kept it all together, Maryden cleaned her upper body. Wiping away traces of sweat, dirt and remainders of blood that she had not yet noticed before from earlier fights.  
  
It did not compare with a hot bath, but at least she was somewhat clean now. When she stood up, pulling the new clean moss-coloured shirt over her head something instinctual churned in her gut. Maryden knew she was not alone here, but her visitor had not yet shown itself yet.  
  
Just when the thought of crossing the river, trying to find whatever was watching her in the undergrowth across and either confront it or chase it away, popped up briefly in her head a twig snapped from behind her. Maryden turned and swung out on instinct. Her fist collided inside an open palm and was caught.  
  
“Whoa, easy there!” Her assailant laughed.  
  
Green eyes stared down at her, amusement twinkling inside them. At Edér’s familiar sight Maryden visibly relaxed, a small smile crawled it’s way on her lips.  
  
“Damn it, Edér! Don’t scare me like that, I could have hurt you,” Maryden exclaimed, giving him a playful push with her fist in his palm, he released her after that.  
  
“Was wondering where you went, you okay? Did the bushes talk back?” He elaborated his presence and nodded to the bushes with a smile. “You seemed quite enraptured by them.”  
  
“Well, they are quite beautiful and lush green,” Maryden said, playing along and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes roamed the treeline again, but the feeling of being watched had left her. Whatever it had been, it was there no longer.  
  
“But I am alright.. thanks for asking,” she continued and turned back to Edér.  
  
He regarded her with something amusing but with a sceptic glaze in his eyes. “Even after what happened at the Sanatorium?”  


* * *

_Maryden looked through the small barred window in the prison’s door. A wood elf supposedly called Uscgrim stood in the middle of the room, facing her but his eyes strangely empty like most in the Sanatorium. She swallowed thickly, warm underneath her brigandine armour.  
  
“I don’t like this,” Sagani voiced everyone’s thoughts.  
  
“Do you have to do you magic trick on him? Who knows what you’ll find.” Edér said with worry and placed a gauntleted hand on her armoured shoulder. “What about your hand.”  
  
“I could manage Heritage Hill, I think I can also manage this.” Maryden replied with a harsher tone than she intended. She sighed afterwards, not wanting to argue. “Look, I need to do this,” she started in a more softer voice and turned around, eyeing her companions. “Please.”  
  
_ ‘They are scared for me. Of what I might see within that broken mind,’ _Maryden realized then and there. It was evident in the way they looked at her; a fractured woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders and a bad sword arm._  
  
Finally Edér broke the silence and nodded in defeat and understanding. “Alright, but if anything happens..” he didn’t finish his sentence. Maryden gave him a firm nod and turned back to the prison door, eyes focussing on the prisoner. She knew they had her back.  
  
Closing her eyes Maryden reached out through wood and steel to Uscgrim with her soul, brushing and nestling inside his being. But as she did so a sudden malaise settled over her, causing her to feel feverishly warm and cold at once like that time at the caravan. The soul she approached in his body was the wrong one; a parasitic beast that strangled its host in slow agony. It was predatory and pitiless, and more familiar than she would’ve liked.  
  
Maryden wanted to reel back, pull herself out of this greatly disturbed man that felt like a wild current but it towed her in, harsh and unforgiven and plunged her in a memory.  
  
Suddenly Maryden stood in a cell, feeling hot and sweating. It was the same cell. The halls beyond the bars was moonlit and empty save for the silhouette of a flesh golem wandering past the cell doors towards her, grunting and groaning. She was getting irritated of the wait. When the hideous being was in front of her Maryden jumped, but not physically.  
  
She tore herself out of the body of the boy she had possessed that collapsed on the ground behind her, void and like a puppet who’s strings had been cut. She rushed towards the golem, bodiless and like a gust of wind. Quickly.  
  
Nestling inside the golem was a relief, its empty soul easily overtaking as she implanted herself within its shell. Strength flooding back to her that had been drained during the exchange.  
  
The wary eyes of the mad were ignored as she ventured into an office, heavy her footfalls but nimble her fingers as she adjusted wiring of a large machine with a nest of globes, tubes and coils. Then her surroundings blurred, moving past her or was she moving past it? When everything settles she is in front of a crowd, acting but this was no play.  
  
Maryden’s arms were short, strapped down to the same machine she tempered with by a man with rodent like features. This body held no soul other than hers, cold and voice. Her mind was still determined and holding the same hard-headedness as before. Then the man pulled a lever, shouting ‘Behold!’  
  
The machine whirred and spurted sparks. It twisted very magically and ominously for the crowd, but it did what she wanted it to; nothing. After a flashy show it ebbed down before halting to a complete stop. The rodent-like man unstrapped her and stepped back.  
  
“Behold!” He yelled, but sounded hesitant.  
  
Maryden stepped down and looked him in the eye, a thing that no Hollowborn was capable off. The on looking crowd gasped.  
  
“How do you feel?” The man asked, clearly relieved. Maryden felt a sick joy when her plan was about to come to fruition. She screamed like a banshee, mad, and turned running back to the machine. She bashed and bashed her head against it, blood pouring down her face as glass shards of the globes embedded her skin. Panicked shrieks erupted from behind her.  
  
Her body failed and dropped on the ground before the man reached her. It died as she parted from it, feeling only mirth.  
  
Who could put their faith in animancy now?  
  
Violently Maryden was yanked back into reality, breathing hard and sweating. The man who’s eyes had been so vacant was now looking at her intensely, peering into her debts through the bars of his prison.  
  
“A Watcher.” The voice coming from the man was raspy, unused. Maryden knew this man, this soul staring at her through eyes that didn’t belong to him.  
  
“You made me one. Undo it,” Maryden demanded, voice low. Behind her she could hear her companions shifting.  
  
“Is that so?” The man drawled, showing no signs to hide his disinterest as his eyes kept searching hers. Then something inside him changed, recognition. He opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to saw something but refrained himself. Instead his jaw just tightened.  
  
“I know your look. Your hunger for answers that elude you,” he began, voice soft but seething. Almost spitting like it was disgusting. “It gnaws at your soul. Usurps your reason for being. You’re like everyone else.”  
  
The man stepped back to the end of his cell. Darkness lapping at his body, creating sharp contrasts and harsh lines. His eyes were mere shimmering pinpricks when he spoke; “I will help you let go,” and then the body slumped forward.  
  
Growls and moans erupted from behind them, instantly everyone drew their weapons as flesh golems and maddened prisoners alike approached them with no peaceful intent.  


* * *

Maryden looked away from Edér seeing eyes to the ground, the memory causing the hairs on her arms stand on end. That man in that cell, the bane of her condition, was gone. To where, who knew.  
  
“It was unpleasant,” Maryden diplomatically replied. “But without Lady Webb’s guidance we would still be fumbling in the dark. That reminds me, we will reach Dyrford tomorrow right?”  
  
Edér nodded and joined her side as they headed back to camp. “Yep.. Probably around noon if we rise early.”  
  
At camp Sagani was sitting right next to Aloth, fascinated and poking him. “So now that you are Awakened you practically have a lousy neighbour next door that borrows your sugar for once in a while? Without asking?”  
  
Aloth sighed, rubbing his temples to force down a upcoming headache. “Yes.. but Iselmyr only comes out when I am feeling threatened or unsure, because of what happened. But I don’t experience her memories of life, unlike Maryden. She kind of borrows me..” He said it somewhat with disdain.. but also gratitude. It seemed that Iselmyr had pulled him out of some dodgy situations.  
  
At this Sagani grinned with mischief and elbowed him to which he flinched. “Always knew you were a sugar daddy, Aloth.” Edér laughed.  
  
Maryden sat down in front of her tent and pulled out her journal. The rest of the evening she spent writing, some were letters to Kana in Caed Nua and orders to further reconstruct the Main Keep and hire soldiers, others were events and her thoughts about them. She noticed that she had been forgetting things. Where they had gone too, the people they spoke and the tasks she had taken up.  
  
Maryden laid down her pen when a cramp settled. She looked up and heard Pallegina discuss faith with Sagani, Durance was sowing a new tear in his robes, Aloth was studying his book and Edér was sculpting something out of wood with one of his small knives. The entire picture was peaceful, something serene compared to her own chaotic mind that Thaos still plagued.  
  
She had no idea who he was, aside from the fact that he was part of the Leaden Key and probably the cause of her condition. Her past life adored him, that much was clear to her, but other than this he was a total mystery to her.  
  
It frustrated her. It felt like a goose hunt, going from here to there in favour of some lord or another to get leads that led to even more mystery.  
  
_“Why does everything has to go the hard way_?” She thought with anger.  
  
Nothingness answered her question.  
  
Deciding to take some sleep when it was still peaceful out here Maryden retreated inside her tent and took off her brigandine armour. The bedroll was soft beneath her but when she closed her eyes the whispers seemed to get louder in her ears.  
  
Another thing of frustration. She was tired, but slept badly.  
  
‘ _No sleep for the Watcher_ ,’ Maerwald’s words rang once more in her head.  
  
There was no use fighting it, Maryden had noticed that. So she strained and tried to listen. Perhaps the whispers were telling truths, tales, clues of lives lost. Perhaps it was all just gibberish, but it helped her focus instead of igniting the panic of depraved sleep.  
  
Suddenly something broke through her focus. It was a familiar voice. Rumbling, soothing and deep that voice sang a song. The lyrics a foreign language, coming from the man whose god had been vanquished, probably a chant. And though she did not understand it, she listened. Soothed if only for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it?  
> Please review! Feedback is always appreciated.


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